Nor Iron Bars
by Kayasuri-n
Summary: And stone walls don't a prison make, nor iron bars a cage. AU. COMPLETE
1. Haven

**And Iron Bars a Cage**

Haven

This was a new part of Haven palace, one that Dax had never visited before. There were windows everywhere, in the rooms that he could see into, and the curtains were pulled so the afternoon light could shine in. It was still part of the old, defensible part of the palace, so the doors were narrow enough for one man to guard, and the ceilings were low, and everything was made of stone. Still, it was nicer than the prisons in the basement, which were dank, dark, cold, and carried the lingering stink of fear and pain.

They'd listened to him.

Dax almost stumbled, and smiled nicely when his guard turned to look at him. He was fine. Everything was just peachy over here, thank you!

"They moved 'im?" he asked, doing his best to sound unconcerned, like this was just another day on another planet, nothing special going on at all. He must have succeeded, because the guard shrugged one massive shoulder.

"Last night. When you were taking care of the troops." The one-eyed guard turned, and smiled. "Thanks for that, cherry. Thought a couple of them were done for."

"It's what I'm here for," Dax replied. "Well, that, and advising where I can." And looking for this Mar kid, and helping hold up the eco shield over the city, and being the Precursor on the spot, keeping an eye on the Dark Makers' actions on the planet. Not to mention doing what he could for his new friend.

The guard nodded, and looked down the hallway. "They put him in one of the corner rooms."

Dax nodded, and did what he could to see around his guard. He felt a little bad, not knowing his guard's name, but the man didn't seem to mind. Then again, the dark, impassive face was harder to read than most elves. Maybe, if everyone here looked like Precursors did... The thought of the over large, muscled guard as a furry little ottsel nearly made Dax laugh.

"Mm?" The guard looked down at Dax, one bald eye ridge lifted in question.

"Just thought of what I'll tell 'im, 'bout our raspy commander this morning," Dax said. "I figure, if anything's going to make 'im laugh, it'll be Torn's little tantrum."

The guard snorted, and shook his head. "I don't understand you," he said. "I would've expected a Precursor to be more..."

"Dignified? I tried that, once. It didn't work out so well. Besides, we're all friends here."

"Touched you think that way, cherry."

"Yeah, well," Dax said, and smiled.

The guard stopped walking in front of one of the very last doors, and nodded. "This room," he said.

"Alright. Remember, stay out here."

"I will." The guard opened the door a crack, and Dax stepped forward. His nerves finally woke up, and he felt his stomach do a slow roll over. The guard opened the door further, and Dax stepped in.

As always, he took a moment to examine his surroundings before doing anything else. In the prison, it'd been necessary to look around, to try and find the dark eco infested bugs that liked the place. He'd been stung by two or three, his first visit down, and even a Precursor could have a bad reaction. The swelling had gone down after several hours, once he'd directed his personal eco stores to the infected bites, but it had still hurt.

This room was a good one, he decided. It was larger than the last one, and someone had whitewashed over the stone walls in the recent past. There were two large windows set into the wall at the back of the room, and the new bars planted in the stone of the floor and ceiling gleamed, almost cheerfully, in the light. Behind the thick bars dividing the room in two was a second door, one that led- Dax supposed- to a small washroom for the inhabitant.

"Hey, big guy," he said, finally looking at the room's occupant. Not directly at him, since that tended to make him nervous. Sometimes that just meant he huddled at the back of his cage, teeth bared so Dax could see his fangs. Sometimes, that meant that he would lunge for the bars, snarling and swiping his claws in Dax's direction.

"Like the new place, Jak?" Dax asked, and moved over to the bars. He crouched down on his heels, and waited. He could see the eco saturates' interest, in his lifted head and twitching ears. Jak's eerie, black eyes were wide, and seemingly focused on Dax. "I got to admit, its several steps up from the last one, huh. I mean, we've got windows now."

Jak made a small sound in the back of his throat. It might have been agreement, but it might just have been a noise for the sake of noise. It was hard to tell.

After a moment, Dax cleared his throat and looked at Jak's shoulder. The man was starting to put on some weight, he noticed, and smiled faintly. It was possible to see actual flesh, and not just bones and wiry muscles, and the tendons that held everything together. Maybe, if this kept up, Jak would have padding and insulation, and wouldn't spend his nights shivering in his nest of blankets.

Dax hoped so. Of course, it would be better if people stopped insisting on cages and bars, but at the moment Jak was too badly hurt to do without them. He needed to believe that the bad people couldn't get at him. Of course, maybe, one day... But that day wasn't today.

"I'm going to change now, Jak," he said, and pulled off his gloves. He set them neatly to one side, and flexed his now bare fingers. "Don't be afraid. It's just like always. I'll just change and then we'll talk, you and me. Okay? You just stay calm now."

He kept up the quiet, meaningless chatter. The words didn't seem to matter as much as the tone of voice, which meant Dax could get away with repeating himself again and again. He pulled off his shirt, and folded it neatly, and then stood up to deal with his pants and boots. Once all of the clothes the elves insisted were necessary were gone, he stopped talking and focused.

Eco welled up from inside, and he directed it through his veins and arteries, to the tips of his fingers, toes, and ears. He gave the eco a mental twist, and felt his body shift.

It didn't hurt any more. He shrank, from five and a half feet to a normal two feet, and felt fur sprout and cover everywhere. Thick, leathery pads covered the bottoms of his feet and his palms, and he swished his tail just to make sure his balance was adjusted.

Dax opened his eyes again, and gave himself an all over body shake to get everything settled. "There we go," he said, and stepped through the bars. They might have been set too close together for an elf to get through, but they weren't any sort of obstacle for an ottsel. Everything was bigger, now. The proper size, he couldn't help but think.

"So, Jak, are you okay with me coming closer?" Dax dropped to all fours, and walked very slowly towards the eco saturate in the corner, making sure to keep his body language friendly. These people didn't have ottsels, at least not before Dax had arrived, but they did have croco-dogs and muse-cats, and the animals' body language was close enough to an ottsel's.

Jak shifted, sitting up, back to the corner. He stretched out one leg, and his foot slid out from under the blanket. Dax glanced at the scarred sole of Jak's foot, and pressed his lips together. Then he looked up at Jak's face, and smiled.

"Want to hear about the latest rant, courtesy of our cranky commander?" he asked, and stopped next to Jak's outstretched leg. "I promise it's a good one."

Jak's eyebrows came together to form a single line across his forehead, and then his expression cleared. Slowly, and with a care for his long claws, Jak reached over and picked Dax up, gripping the Precursor around the middle. Just as slowly, Jak shifted until Dax was cradled against his chest, one hand keeping the Precursor in place while he stroked Dax's head with a finger.

Dax sighed, and closed his eyes. "I guess you do want to hear," he said. He grabbed a handful of Jak's shirt, and shifted very slightly so his tail wasn't folded back on itself. "Where should I start, huh?"

Jak shrugged one shoulder, and hummed.

"You're right. The beginning's a good place to start. Well, I guess it started last night, really. When the metal-heads and a Dark Maker decided to attack the forces at Dead Town..."

* * *

Sometimes, Jak dreams. And in his dreams, he remembers.

He remembers green; green grass, green trees, the taste and feel of green eco washing over and through him, easing all his hurts.

In his dreams, he runs through the green, skipping every occasional step just because he can, because it's fun. In his dreams, he's smaller, weaker, and a stumble that leads to a fall down a shallow hill hurts. It hurts, and his lip trembles and he cries a little, just a few tears, because his knees are scraped and a few drops of red blood mar his pale skin.

But in his dreams there is the green; green eco, gentle fingers that are stained green and make the hurt go away, wipe off the blood to reveal untouched skin. He knows, in the dreams and in the remembering, that no matter what happens, no matter how bad things are, there will always be green eco and gentle fingers.

Jak always wakes up. And where he is, there is no green, no grass or trees or eco. Just gray. Gray, stone walls that are hard and cold, gray floors, gray skies when he's let out to kill the monsters. Gray-faced monsters with grasping, pinching fingers and angry laughter and pain.

He wants the green back.

* * *

It'd been a long day, and it looked like it was going to be a longer night.

Dax sighed, and stretched up until he looked like an elf, down to the bare skin and full head of tri-colored hair. And a decided lack of tail, he thought in disgust. How in the nine hells were these people able to run and jump without a tail for balance? If he went any faster than a careful walk, he was likely to pitch right over and fall flat on his face!

He heard something shuffle just behind him, and glanced over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jak," he said, only a little hoarse from all the talking he'd done. "I have to go. Otherwise the Dark Makers will break the shield wall, and we'll all be running on treadmills to power... whatever lunacy they'll need power for. Toasters, maybe. What do Dark Makers even eat? They can't eat eco, it tastes too bad to eat. Trust me, I tried."

Jak made a small noise that sounded like, Dax was sure, a kitten. He reached up and held onto one of the bars of his cage.

"I'll be back tomorrow," Dax promised. "Unless the sky falls in, in which case you'll see me anyways. Okay?" He carefully patted Jak's knuckles, and grabbed his pants off the careful pile. "Haven't these people heard of heaters? They don't have fur, and it's so easy to get cold without fur... Bah! Now, you rest well tonight, okay? Like I said, I'll see you tomorrow."

Jak made a quiet sound in agreement, and moved away from the bars. When Dax glanced back, just before leaving the room, Jak had returned to his nest of blankets and looked mostly asleep already.

Dax sighed, and smiled wanly at his guard. "Know what tonight's talk is about? I can _feel _the dark eco on the horizon."

"Then you know more than me," the guard replied. He shouldered the massive gun he called 'the peacemaker'- well, really, he called it his baby, everyone else called it the peacemaker- and led Dax through the palace's maze of hallways and interconnecting rooms.

Whoever had designed the palace had been insane, or obsessed with security. In the old part, there were some places you could only get to by going through other rooms, the hallways switched back on themselves, and the halls, and doorways, were all narrow enough that a single person could hold off an army, as long as their strength and ammo held out. Even in the new part of the palace, the hallways- though wider, and with a higher ceiling- could be guarded by two or three soldiers, and there weren't any niches big enough for an attacker to take shelter in. There were very few blind corners, and the most important rooms were accessed only by going through other rooms first.

Dax sighed, and thought longingly of the clean lines of a Precursor ship. Yes, everything was set up for defense there, starting with everything being of a size only a Precursor could appreciate, but at least you knew where you were!

"Hard to get used to, Cherry?" the guard asked, apparently in response to the sigh.

"Yeah. Everything's just very... different. Strange. Not bad, not really, except the part where I can't find my own bedroom without help, but it's not what I grew up with." Dax glanced at a tapestry that depicted, in detail, a metal-head attack and the city's response, and winced away from the scene of mutilated body parts. Who _wanted_ to look at that sort of thing?

"Not what I grew up with, either," the guard admitted. "I grew up in the slums, before I became a Wastelander."

"A- what?"

"Wastelander." The guard looked down and smiled. "Special kind of fighter, I guess you could say. We make our livings out of killing metal-heads and harvesting the skull gems. Half the time we live out in the wasteland, and I got to tell you, after wide open spaces, this city is pretty claustrophobic to me."

"Mm. I get that feeling myself, though I think it's because I'm still thinking in terms of being two feet tall and furry."

"If you didn't switch back, you might not get that feeling."

"I have to," Dax said, and didn't elaborate. It wasn't just the feeling of wrongness, when he was elfin in form, or the impossibility of sleeping without a tail to hold onto, but it was part of who he _was_. How could he give it up?

Of course, no one was going to respect a two foot tall ottsel, never mind he was a Precursor, so he had to be an elf too. It was enough to give him a headache.

He fell silent, as the guard led him out of the old palace and into the new, passing any number of courtiers and servants on errands. One and all, they stepped to the side and bowed their heads to him. Whether they believed him to be a Precursor or not, they knew that their leaders, Battle Commander Torn and the Baroness Ashelin, treated him with respect. That was enough for most people in the palace, no need to toss ancient gods into the mix.

In truth, Dax was somewhat amused by the whole thing. He'd been to other planets before, nominally under the Precursor's protection, where the inhabitants had been one short step from skinning their visitors. This was a much nicer pace, and if things weren't so dire, he'd have enjoyed the visit. As it was, it turned what might have been intolerable into something he could deal with for months on end.

The guard took him to the lesser council chamber, instead of the greater. That was a good sign, actually. It meant only the core group of the city's protectors would be involved. When the sub-commanders and less vital nobles got involved, things got complicated.

There wasn't any ceremony with entering the lesser council chamber, fortunately. Dax didn't think he'd ever get used to being announced, let alone as 'the great Precursor, Daxter'.

Torn looked up from the map he, and several of the others, had been studying. "Daxter, Sig. Good to see you."

Sig! That was his guard's name! Dax nodded in reply, and moved over to look at the map. "So, got any plans, fearless leader?" he asked, and leaned on the large, heavy table.

Several of the others, Samos and Ashelin in particular, looked somewhat disapproving, but Dax pretended not to notice. He had an important, impossible to copy role. No matter how disapproving anyone got, there was no way they could get rid of him.

"I do," Torn replied, in his roughened voice. Dax had offered to heal whatever was wrong with Torn's throat, and the commander had reacted as if Dax had offered to shove a venomous snake in his face. "But first, are you able to take over the shields for up to an hour? Vin doesn't think it will be that long, but worst case scenario would be an hour."

Dax looked over at Vin, the chief engineer. The man was memorable only by how paranoid and twitchy he was. If he'd been calmer, Dax would have never remembered passing him on the street.

"Easily," he replied. "When?"

"N-n-n-no earlier than t-t-tomorrow m-m-morning," Vin said, shaking so hard he looked like he was vibrating. "T-t-the calibrations- t-the details- m-m-morning is really early, if I w-w-w-work all n-night to t-t-t-take t-t-the shield generat-tors down." He gestured, more like twitches really, his mouth working soundlessly before he jumped and started shouting. "We're all going to die! They're going to eat our brains! Run! Hide! I don't want to die!"

Dax looked away and bit his lip. Vin wasn't suffering from an illness, just an over reactive imagination. "Vin, no one's going to die," he said, which was a flat out lie. Of course people were going to die. It would just be in battle. "I'm going to shield the city. Remember?"

"R-r-right."

Torn massaged his forehead. "Maybe you want to go sit down," he said.

"S-s-s-sure. You're the b-boss." Vin moved over to one of the chairs around the edge of the room, and sat down, looking vaguely panicked.

"So," Dax said, brightly, "I take over the shields for a day, and then what?"

"As everyone knows, whenever Daxter places a shield over the city, the metal-heads and Dark Makers are disoriented for twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Are you sure you have no idea why it happens?"

"Not a clue in the world. Maybe because I use light eco, and they're dark eco, but other than that... I'm a healer. I don't do eco theory."

"Right, right." Torn looked disgusted. "We'll use the period of disorientation to push their lines back, and cause as much damage as possible. We'll have the KG forces here, and here, and we'll move the Dark Eco Warrior here, and let him out." He pointed at three different spots on the map. Dax frowned a little; Jak was being placed where most of the Dark Maker sightings had been made, but didn't comment. It wasn't unexpected, after all.

"Depending on how the enemy reacts, we'll either pull our forces back here or advance to the old boundary lines. Whatever they do, we'll move the Dark Eco Warrior to this point, and send him in this direction to cause as much damage to their forces as possible."

Dax's frown deepened, and he finally started to scowl as Torn laid out the plan for next week. It wouldn't stay the way he was putting it out at the moment. "No plan lasts beyond the first engagement" was one of his parents' favorite phrases. Still, it was a good projection for the next week, dealing in generalities instead of specifics, emphasizing possible avenues of attack instead of moves that had been set in stone. There was just one little thing Dax didn't like.

Jak was being sent out against the metal-heads and Dark Makers every day for eight days straight. Sure, it might not stay that way. And yes, Dax knew that Jak was one of the best fighters, and one of the only weapons- though he hated to think of the eco saturate that way- that was really effective against the Dark Makers. But no one, no elf, no Precursor, and no Dark Maker for that matter, could fight day after day without a break, and as far as Dax was aware, Jak rarely got that break.

"And after that Jak will get a vacation," Dax said, interrupting Torn on the ninth day of planned fighting. He folded his arms and looked resolute.

"Excuse me?" Ashelin stepped forward, and glared at Dax. "In case you weren't paying attention, we need to use that warrior. The Dark Army is increasing its attacks and we need everything we can to keep it off our doorstep!"

"I have been paying attention," Dax said, careful not to raise his voice. "But you have a plan for Jak to fight eight days in a row, and you don't do that to anyone else. I do pay attention, and not just to what happens in this room or on Healer's Avenue. You rotate your fighters, and the number of times you have any of your KG fight more than three days in a row can be counted on one hand. Jak can't patrol the city, I'm not even suggesting he does, but you can give him a break. He's been fighting nearly every day already this month. He's been coming back injured recently, and that never used to happen."

"Daxter," Torn said, "I understand your concerns. But we need the warrior on the front lines."

"_Jak_. His name is Jak. Use it for once, why don't you?"

"Fine. We need Jak on the front lines."

"Every day?" Dax leaned forward, until he was nearly nose to nose with Torn. His shoulder muscles felt wire tight, until they were about to snap. "He needs a _break_, damn you."

"And we can't afford to give him one!" Torn yelled, as loudly as was possible for him.

Dax shoved away from the table, and clenched his teeth. "Why not?" he demanded, and swept the room with his eyes. Samos, Ashelin, Torn, and a few others whose names escaped him at that moment all either refused to meet his eyes, or looked away. "Why in the seven hells not? Stars, you can afford to give your KG a break! You can afford to give yourselves a break! Why not Jak? What's so different between him and everyone else that he can't be given a break?" He sneered, and glared at Torn. "Or is it that you don't think he deserves a break?

"If it's the fighting, you have hundreds, thousands of fighters in the KG. If you're worried about what the Dark Makers are going to do to the shields again, I'll take care of it. If it's the eco powers, they're just like any other ability. Over use is going to make them _go away_." Dax tilted his head, and pretended to think. "I mean, gee, if it's just because he's the only one here with eco powers, that's easily fixed. I know you said everyone but him died in that nasty project the old Baron had, but I'm a Precursor. I can _give_ you eco powers, if that's what you want."

Torn flinched backwards, and Dax noted, from the corner of his eyes, that everyone else leaned back slightly. Except Sig, who looked- thoughtful? Interesting.

Dax forced himself to take several deep, calming breaths. When he was sure he could talk without yelling, he leaned forward again. "Jak is getting a vacation. One week. And that is the end of it. Do you understand me?"

Torn didn't seem able to meet Dax's eyes, or speak. It was Samos who stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"We understand, my boy. I know you think we're being unfair, but... our options are limited."

"So find new ones," Dax snapped, and spun away from the table. "Continue your talk, I'm finished here."

Sig caught up with Dax right before the Precursor turned the wrong way and headed for the kitchens. "C'mon, Cherry. Do you want to see Jak again, or your room?"

"My room," Dax decided. "I'm not in a safe mood right now."

Sig nodded, and gestured towards the correct corridor. "You'll feel better after some sleep."

Dax kind of doubted that, but kept quiet.

* * *

Dax fingered the KG armor Torn had laid out for him, and raised his eyebrows. "You have got to be kidding me," he said.

Sig cleared his throat. "I don't think anyone's joking."

"I've never worn armor before!"

"You've also never insisted on accompanying the Dark- sorry, Jak- into battle before," Torn said, as he stepped into the tent. "Put the armor on."

"No." Dax stepped away from the armor, and concentrated. Eco was easy. Anything else, though technically manipulating eco, was somewhat harder to manage. Still, the armor was inanimate. He waved his hand over the armor, once, and slowly at that. The air shimmered, the armor glowed too brightly for the elves to look at, and when the glow died the armor was gone, and in its place were some very fancy robes.

Dax smirked at Torn's expression, and Sig's careful non-expression. "I don't need armor," he said. "I can take care of my own protection, thanks."

Torn nearly growled, and turned his back as Dax quickly changed into the robes. "You're not going to listen to a word I say, are you?" he asked.

"Depends on the words." The Precursor straightened his collar, and looked down at himself. With his hair color- red at the tips, fading to a dark orange, until it turned yellow at the roots- the normal Precursor colors made him look washed out, much like a corpse. Because of that, he hadn't done much to the colors from the armor, making his robes dark blue, nearly black, with pale silver touches at strategic places. It was still obviously Precursor robes, which might draw Dark Maker attention, but at least it didn't shout it like the white and pale blue robes the other Precursors liked.

"Alright, fine. I think this is a bad idea. I think you going unarmored into battle is a really stupid idea. Precursor or not, you can still die."

"I know."

Torn did growl, at that, and turned around. "Finally, you haven't seen the- Jak- in battle before. You don't know what he's like. You've only seen him when he's behaving himself. When he fights, he's as bad as any of the Dark Makers."

Dax straightened his back, his eyes grave. "He can't be any worse than our warriors. I- this isn't something most people know, about Precursors, but we do have a warrior class, who are born and bred to fight. They can be very... enthusiastic." And be very disappointed with their healer son, but he wasn't going to get into that. "I've seen some of our fighters when they're in the depths of battle fury, and I've seen them rip limbs off their enemies. I'm not worried."

Torn shook his head. "You haven't seen anything like this. Sig? Do what you can- if Daxter is going to get in trouble, haul him back, no matter what he says."

"_He_ is standing right here," Dax pointed out.

Sig shifted in place, and cleared his throat. "I don't think a Precursor is going to get into much trouble," he said. "Still, if you are in trouble, no arguing. Understand? Your safety is my job."

"Fine," Dax said, and scowled. "But you're going to wait until I say I'm in trouble, and not before. I know what I'm capable of, and what you think is trouble might not be."

Sig rolled his eye, but nodded. "Alright, Cherry. You're calling the shots."

"I should hope so!"

"Precursors help us all," Torn said, and then scowled when Dax chuckled. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Sure I do. Don't worry, Torn. I'll help you."

"Oh, for... Go!"

Dax chuckled, and stepped around Torn. Once outside, he felt his gut clench. Everyone was waiting, and it was fairly obvious what they were waiting for. The metal-heads were a dark blot that covered the ground half a mile away, stretching nearly from one horizon to the other. There were a few Dark Makers, large and prowling through the metal-head ranks.

This was what they were fighting against. He felt more than a little sick. How could they stand against the Dark Army? And this was only a part of it! They were just one city, and the KG was a finite resource. They were outnumbered twenty to one, at least, and- and- it was amazing no one broke and ran, but they had been fighting this war for almost a year now.

Dax hid his trembling hands in his large sleeves, and looked for the prison transport that had Jak. He had to remind himself that the small force stationed here wasn't even a fraction of Torn's forces. Most of the KG was waiting in the wings, figuratively and literally, waiting to swoop in and catch the Dark Army in a pincer move.

"First time on a battle field, cherry?" Sig stepped a little closer, and for once the oversized gun was more of a comfort than something threatening.

"First time before everything's finished, anyways. Normally I'm on cleanup."

"Ah. Well, there'll be plenty of that. Don't worry. I've seen Jak fight. I know you're worried about the chili pepper, but I'm not."

Dax shook his head, and pressed his lips together. He could see the prison transport now, and hear the noises from the back. It sounded like someone was slamming their fists against the walls. As Dax got closer, he realized that the situation was exactly like what it sounded like. Jak was punching the walls, repeatedly, and snarling loud enough to be heard over the punching.

"Hey, big guy," he called, which stilled the punching and snarling for a brief moment. "Guess what, you've got company this fight."

The punching started up again, and the snarling was replaced by howling. The nearby KG turned to stare at the transport, and then began to edge away.

"O-kay then," Dax murmured, and stared at the transport.

"Now, I'm new," Sig said, and scratched his nose. "But I hear things."

"Uh huh. And what do you hear?"

"That Praxis' monster is only let out of his cage when there's fighting to be had." Sig looked down at Dax. "The kid you visit isn't a monster, not really. But this? I'll believe that this is a monster."

"No, he's not," Dax murmured, so quietly he had difficulty hearing himself. He felt a shift in the eco, and turned to look at the Dark Army.

They were advancing. He felt a thrill of nerves, a jolt that raced up and down his spine and ended at his fingertips, which began to glow faintly with eco. Jak somehow knew the Dark Army was moving, because the howling stopped. So did the pounding.

The transport began to move, to back up. Dax figured the reason out right away. No one was certain that Jak wouldn't turn and savage the KG fighters, no matter how many times they'd used him in a fight. They didn't want him to even see a hint of the KG.

Dax swallowed, and followed the transport on foot. His palms were sweating, a uniquely disgusting habit of elves. Sweat. Who'd thought that up? It was sticky, smelly, and just plain gross.

The transport stopped moving, and Dax stopped next to it. The Dark Army was moving faster now, and he could see the individual metal-heads that made up the front line, bestial things that ran on all fours and howled. Behind them came rank after rank of the monsters, and behind _them_ were the Dark Makers.

The front line was getting closer, and closer. Dax glanced over at the transport, and did his best to hide his shaking.

It was only when he could see the nearest metal-head's eyes that anything happened. The transport's back doors flung open. The nearest metal-heads slowed down slightly, right before Jak leapt from the transport.

Jak didn't make any sound. The metal-heads made a horrific screeching sound, roughly half of them turning to attack the eco saturate, the other half doing their best to get away.

The transport used the confusion to get away from the knot of fighting. Dax stumbled, and looked around frantically. Jak was there, ahead and in the middle of a crowd of metal-heads. Dark, oily blood was spraying through the air, and assorted pieces of metal-heads were being trampled into the ground. For the moment, the area around Dax was clear.

Not for long. He glanced over his shoulder at Sig, who hefted the peacemaker in a gesture that was likely supposed to be reassuring. Dax tried to smile, and then turned back to the metal-heads that were between him and Jak.

"Sig? I'd like you to back up. A lot. To the KG lines. Trust me, alright?"

"What? Cherry-"

"I'll be safer if you go." Dax pressed his hands together in front of his chest, a gesture used throughout many universes to pray to the Precursors. "Please."

"Damn it, cherry." Even so, Dax heard Sig backing away, promptly getting into a fight with a large metal-head that disregarded the peacemaker as unimportant.

Dax looked over just in time to see Sig blow the thing's head off.

"Any time, Sig," he reminded the fighter.

Then he looked over at Jak. He pulled on the eco in his system, and concentrated. This was going to get the Dark Maker's attention like nothing else, but he had an idea.

The metal-head fighters were working as a cohesive whole only because of the Dark Makers, he was sure. If the Dark Makers could be taken out- and Dax knew Jak could manage the task, impossible as it sounded- then the KG fighters had a better chance.

He looked up, and pulled his hands apart and back, until he looked like he was offering to hug the nearest metal-head. The creature noticed him, and leapt- and that was when Dax brought his hands together, shoulders hunching as he clapped and spread the eco out in a pool around him.

The air wavered, and took on a blue tint. Everything began moving slowly, if at all. Dax swallowed, and straightened up from his crouch. Well. It was nice to know he could actually use one of the battle moves his siblings had talked about.

It was absurdly easy to get through the mass of metal-heads. They were aware of him; he could feel their regard, and their fury at being unable to move fast enough to catch him. In seconds, he was at Jak's side.

He dropped the time warp, and almost staggered as everything sped back up to normal speed. The metal-heads moved fast, and he spun in place to face them.

Several leapt at him at once. Or maybe they were leaping at Jak and he was just in the way. It didn't matter. Dax screamed and brought his hands up, eco flames coating his fingers, and blasted.

The metal-heads- and the ones behind them- disintegrated. In his panic he'd pulled on yellow and light eco. It was, he realized, a potent combination.

The metal-heads surrounding them backed up slightly, stopping their attacks to regard their new enemy. Dax looked around, nearly vibrating with his fear, and took several stumbling steps back. He bumped into Jak's elbow, and spun to face the eco saturate.

Jak's face twisted into a horrific scowl, and one hand closed around Dax's bicep hard enough to cut off circulation to that hand.

"Jak! Stop! You're hurting me!" Dax tried to pull Jak's hand off his arm, and couldn't. "Jak, come on, it's me! Your old pal Daxter! Jak, we don't have time for this, they're going to attack at any second!"

Jak's grip tightened, and then he let go. His eyes went very, very wide, and still, Dax couldn't see any sign of the white sclera. Jak's mouth opened, and then closed, and for a brief second he looked confused, yet- happy.

Then one of the nearest metal-heads made a noise, and Jak spun to face it. He crouched down and spread his hands.

And then he roared.

The metal-head roared back.

Dax stumbled back, hands clapped to his ears, before he realized how stupid that was. He was in the middle of a fight, he didn't have time for this!

He freed one hand, and held it flat over his head. A shield snapped into place just in time to deflect a scorpion-head. Dax broke the shield, and made the eco spread out in a circle. Several other scorpion-heads were hit, and killed.

Dax turned back to Jak, and nearly screamed. Jak was holding off three metal-heads, and very obviously couldn't see the fourth. The fourth metal-head lunged, jaws open and claws raised. Jak spun and brought his claws down in time to behead his attacker, but one of the other three scored several long slashes down Jak's back. The eco saturate arched backwards and roared.

"Jak!" Dax darted forward and pushed the three metal-heads away with a hasty shield. He turned to Jak, and reached out to press his hand against the wounds, but Jak was already spinning away and slashing at several attackers behind Dax.

The Precursor cursed, and focused on his shields. It was the only thing that gave them a fighting chance. This had been stupid. Torn was right. He was going to get himself killed, and for what? To prove a point? That Jak could fight with others? That he wasn't a helpless healer that had to be coddled and protected from the realities of war? He'd been at war since he'd been born! He'd been healing frontline fighters since he was five years old!

It had been _nothing_ like this!

Dax screamed, and ducked a metal-head's claws. Seconds later, a blast of dark eco impacted against the metal-head's chest. The beast screeched, spasmed, and fell over, only to begin dissolving into a dark ooze, and globs of glowing, floating dark eco. The eco began shifting, moving first towards Dax, and then away. Like it was being pulled in two different directions.

The Precursor froze for one terrified second, and then threw himself backwards, right into another metal-head. It didn't matter. He shoved light eco into the beast, killing it instantly, and continued to scramble backwards. The hair on the backs of his arms and neck was standing on end; from his fear or from all of the eco in the air, he didn't know.

The world twisted, being pulled in several directions at once, then being pulled inward into a center that pulsed with all the hate, all the anger of several worlds, and then snapped back into place.

Four Dark Makers stepped forward, the crystalline planes of their faces twisted into unrelenting fury. As one, they raised their claws. As one, they turned until they were staring directly at Dax.

"No! No!" Dax jumped to the side when the first of them attacked, and felt the thing's claws slice through his robes, the flesh of his arm, and across the bone. It didn't catch, not on the cloth, the flesh, or the bone.

Dax fell to the ground and clapped his hand over his wound, screaming as loud as he could. His arm hadn't been cut off- but stars, it felt like it had!

He couldn't think until he'd called the light eco and forced it into the wound, healing what would have taken days in seconds. Then he looked up, more than a little surprised to realize he was still alive.

He didn't see the Dark Makers at first. He saw a broad back, covered in a gray, blood stained shirt. Jak. Jak was standing between him and the Dark Makers?

Dax scrambled to his feet, felt something behind him, and reacted entirely on instinct.

He jumped for Jak's shoulder, shifting into an ottsel in midair. He felt a Dark Maker's claws tear through the robes, felt his tail burn as the tip was cut off, but he himself was whole. He landed on Jak's shoulder with a bone jarring thud that drove all of his breath out of him, and dug his claws into the fabric of Jak's shirt to stay in place.

Jak didn't seem to notice or care about his new passenger. For the moment, the Dark Makers didn't seem aware that Dax had shifted form and position.

"Get 'em, Jak!" Dax pointed at the Dark Maker directly ahead of them, without any idea in the world how, exactly, Jak was going to 'get them'.

He didn't wonder long.

Jak glanced to the side, at Dax, for half a breath, gathered himself, and jumped. Straight up. He seemed to hang in the air for one breathless second, and then flipped over and came down nearly headfirst. He slammed his fist into the ground before he'd even landed.

The dark eco raced out in a ring around Jak, crackling over and through everything in its way. Dax's eyes widened at the sight of one Dark Maker, arched backward, mouth open so wide all three layers of its fangs could be seen, screaming silently in agony.

Then it exploded.

The remaining Dark Makers took a little longer, but only a little. Several moments later, they- and a fair number of the surrounding metal-heads- were dead, the only sign of their existence the globs of dark eco hanging in the air.

Jak straightened to his full height, spread his arms out to his sides, and snarled. At that, the globs of dark eco stopped moving, and then raced to Jak. They impacted into his legs and torso, absorbed in seconds. Purple eco static crackled over Jak, every inch, the miniature lighting sinking into Dax's skin. It was purified instantly, but it was still a strange, unsettling feeling.

Dax shook himself once the static storm was over, smoothing out his fur. It was matted into wet, bloodstained clumps in places, where he'd been injured and hadn't noticed. It didn't matter, though. He was alive. That was what mattered.

"You know," Dax said, turning to look into Jak's eyes. "I think, next bunch of fights? I'm going to join you exactly like _this_."

Jak snorted, and shifted his shoulder a little, getting used to the new weight, Dax supposed. "Uh, hope you don't mind," the Precursor added.

Jak shrugged, and looked around the battle field. He grinned slowly, the expression terrible in its ferocity.

"Well. Let's go get 'em, eh buddy?" Dax dug his claws into the surface beneath him again, and flattened his ears against his head. "Oh, stars..."

* * *

Jak stumbled towards the prison transport, though fortunately it wasn't due to any more injuries. He hadn't been marked once by the metal-heads after Dax had jumped onto his shoulder, which was a relief. The wounds from early in the fight weren't as serious as Dax had feared, or Jak was able to heal somewhat when he absorbed eco from the dead metal-heads.

Whatever the reason, the result was a good one. Jak was exhausted, though, and Dax was giving serious thought to jumping off and walking on his own. Only the bits and pieces of sharp metal- the metal-head remains, after the flesh had melted away- made him hesitate. Jak walked over the metal shards without a flinch, which was no doubt the reason his feet were so scarred.

Torn stepped forward out of a mass of bodies. Jak stopped walking and stood, glaring at the commander, his chest vibrating in a quiet, deadly growl.

"Hey, buddy," Dax said. He pushed himself into a sitting position on Jak's shoulder. "What say you head for the transport? I'll deal with Sir Rasps-A-Lot, eh?"

Jak turned his head, the better to eye Dax, and then grunted. He relaxed, very slightly, and turned back towards the prison transport. Dax smiled, and looked around for the best place to jump down.

There was a good spot. Hardly any mess around, if you didn't count the blood on the sand. Dax braced himself, and then jumped down, doing what he could to keep from digging his claws into Jak's shoulder. The eco saturate grunted, and took several steps away, and then stopped. Dax twitched one ear back in Jak's direction, and glared up at Torn.

"What's rule number one?" he asked, his tail lashing the air behind him. Stars, it hurt. He'd have to do something about that severed tip, before it got infected. "Well? C'mon, Torn! We've gone over this how many times now?"

"Who the hell are you?" Torn asked, his eyes very wide. "Where's Daxter?"

"Right here!" Dax looked between Torn and Ashelin, who'd stepped up to join her husband, and scowled. "Hey! Even I know it's a bad idea to have both commanders out on a battlefield at one time! You're not exactly replaceable, you know!"

"We're being yelled at by a talking rat," Ashelin said, her voice flat.

"I am not- Oh, stars. Hold on a second." Dax pressed his lips together into a thin line, and then stretched upwards, shifting as he went, until he was once more in elfin form. He swiped at a line of blood on his bicep, and winced when he re-opened a thin cut. Pity the wounds went from one form to the other. Pity ottsel-sized wounds grew with the body, instead of staying ottsel-sized.

Ashelin blanched and half turned away. Torn managed to look resigned and disgusted at the same time.

"Neat party trick. Where are your clothes?"

"Somewhere on the battlefield," Dax replied. "Rule number one? Anyone? Now would be nice, I'm freezing!"

"What are you even talking about?" Ashelin looked over at Dax again, and then away. "Would you please go put some pants on, at least?"

"In a moment. Just to remind everyone, tattoo-faces are to stay away from Jak. Remember now?" Dax looked down, and scowled. Wherever he stepped, he was going to put his feet down on something sharp. "Great. Just great." Jak wasn't moving, just about everyone was staring, and he could feel every injury he'd managed to earn through his stupid jaunt into the middle of a fight.

Dax gritted his teeth, and started walking. "Come on, Jak," he said. "Let's get you back home and patched up. We're going to be doing this all over again tomorrow."

* * *

The Precursor wound the last strip of bandages over his wrists, and tied the whole thing off. Samos had taken one look at him and thrown him out of Healer's Avenue, until he was "fit to be a healer, and not a patient" as the green Sage had said. Dax wasn't about to argue, since it gave him time to patch up his own wounds, as well as visit with Jak.

His wounds were easy enough to care for. As a Precursor, he was resistant to infection and disease anyways. Apart from the initial injury from the Dark Makers, the one that had nearly cost him his arm, nothing was bad enough to need a touch of eco healing, and even his arm was mostly recovered thanks to his panic during the fight. His feet were sore, and since he did have to walk on them, he nudged a few sparks of light eco down to the soles, but otherwise left them alone.

Now it was time to visit Jak. Dax wanted to look at some of those claw marks, particularly the ones on Jak's back. Metal-heads weren't known for clean living, and one of the most common ailments, apart from simply being torn up from their claws and fangs, was infection.

Dax stepped out of his room, and nodded at Sig. "Nice to see you made it to the KG lines," he said. Sig had, impossibly, incredibly, escaped without damage, except to his armor.

"I didn't," Sig replied. "Those puppies weren't anything to what metal-heads we get out in the wasteland."

"Remind me never to visit the wasteland, then," Dax said, very faintly. There were _worse_ creatures out there?

"Got any plans for the rest of the day?" Sig asked, and stood up.

"I was thinking of picking up dinner and then visiting Jak. I want to make sure he's not hurt, after today."

"Alright. Kitchens, and then the chili pepper."

Dax followed Sig through the halls to the kitchens, which were chaotically busy, as usual. Several of the junior cooks broke off what they were working on when they saw Dax and his guard, and reacted to his quiet request for a large meal for two with delight and horror. Apparently, nothing 'appropriate' would be ready in less than an hour. Only the intervention of the head cook prevented a major case of hysterics, and Dax was able to convince the kitchen's commander that he really only wanted a plain meal, nothing fancy.

Then, with Sig laden down with several covered trays of food, they went to the old palace, and Jak's room.

Dax sighed with relief at the sight of the proper door. "I'll take the food the rest of the way in," he offered. "Thanks, Sig."

"No problem. I'll eat my grub out here. Take as long as you like, cherry."

Dax nodded, and managed to get into the room without spilling anything. "Hey, big guy," he said, softly. "I brought some dinner." He kicked the door closed behind with one foot, and winced at the jolt up and down his leg. That might not have been the smartest move he'd ever made.

Jak stood up, and took several limping steps towards the bars. Then he stopped, eyes focused on the food in Dax's arms, his expression and the set of his shoulders resigned. He glanced up at Dax briefly, and then looked down at the food again.

"You just hold on a minute, buddy. I'll get the door open and you can just eat whatever you want, okay? I just have to do a bit of juggling." Or maybe putting his burdens down was better. Dax managed to not spill anything, and then stared at the locked door. It looked much the same as the rest of the bars dividing the room, shiny and new, and of course he didn't have a key. It'd never mattered before. He could just walk through the bars.

Well, it wasn't exactly an obstacle now, either. Dax rolled his eyes and grinned at Jak, and wrapped both hands around the lock. He tickled eco into the thing, twisted, and the door opened.

"See? Easy. Now, you just hold tight, I'll get this food in there. Take a seat, get off your feet, would you? You're making me wince just looking at you."

Jak looked down at his feet, and then back up at Dax. Slowly, very slowly, he sank down to one knee, and finally sat. He didn't look comfortable, at all, but at least he wasn't standing anymore.

Dax sighed with relief, and brought the food over in two loads. He arranged everything close enough that Jak could simply reach out and take what he wanted, but the eco saturate made no move towards the food. Instead, he watched Dax, eyebrows furrowed, his ears twitching.

Dax sat down across the food from Jak, and tilted his head. "C'mon, buddy. This is for you. Aren't you hungry?" He picked up a stuffed meat pastry, and held it out. "It's still warm and everything."

Hesitantly, Jak reached over and took the pastry, and bit off a tiny corner. His eyebrows winged up in surprise, and the pastry was devoured in seconds.

"That's more like it. It's all yours, buddy." Dax gestured at the meal, and then picked up one of his favorite treats, breaded and fried vegetables. "Especially if it's got meat in it."

Jak grunted in reply, and took another meat pastry. Despite his obvious hunger, the eco saturate ate neatly, if quickly, sampling everything that was available. Most of it he liked. What he didn't seem to like happened to be Dax's favorites, which worked out quite nicely as far as Dax was concerned.

Soon enough, the food was gone. Dax shifted the empty platters and dishes to a neat pile near the door, and then moved back to Jak's side. He moved slowly, and stopped whenever Jak shifted. This was one of the only times he couldn't turn back into an ottsel to deal with his friend. For whatever reason, his healing abilities didn't work as well on the elves if he wasn't elfin himself.

"Hey, it's okay," Dax said, and crouched down. "I just want to look at those hurts you picked up. Make sure you're not getting an infection. That okay with you?" He held out one hand to Jak, and looked up at the eco saturate from beneath his bangs. "Jak?"

Jak reached out and touched the tip of one finger against Dax's hand, and then pulled away. He shifted a little, so Dax could see his back, but otherwise didn't move.

"Is that an okay? I don't want to upset you, buddy. I don't want to scare you, or hurt you. Are you sure you're okay with this?"

In answer, Jak shifted a little more, so that Dax could, if he wished, reach out and run his hand down Jak's spine. It seemed as much of an answer that Dax was going to get, and he decided he'd take it as such.

Dax shuffled closer, staying on his knees so as not to loom over his friend. "Okay, Jak. I'm going to need to see your back. I need you to take your shirt off. Think you can help me with that?"

Jak looked over his shoulder, and flattened his ears against the side of his head. As carefully as Dax had ever seen him move, he began to pull the shirt up over his head, and then stopped, growling fitfully.

"Does that hurt?" Dax reached out and took hold of the shirt's hem. "Here, I'll do most of the work. You just hold on, okay buddy?" He slowly pulled up, and helped Jak peel the shirt off. "Owch," was Dax's diagnosis. "That looks like it hurts."

Jak grunted, and looked away. The muscles in his back tensed, rippling the skin and all of the assorted scars and mostly healed wounds. Dax bit his lip with his oversized front teeth. He should have thought to do this for his friend before this. Well, now he knew better, and he'd take care of Jak's injuries after every fight, from now on.

Carefully, he reached out and placed one hand on Jak's shoulder. The eco saturate flinched, but didn't pull away. Slowly, giving Jak every chance to move away, Dax shifted his hand to the worst of the wounds, four long, bloody furrows that went from just under Jak's right shoulder blade to just above his left hip. It hadn't done anything to the spine that Dax could see, but even if some nerves had been nicked, he had ways of healing the damage.

He could have used light eco, but what was the point? Light eco was the healing equivalent of a sledgehammer, used only on the worst cases. If there was nerve damage, then yes, he would use light eco on Jak. Otherwise, he would use green.

Very gently, he called on the green eco from his eco stores, and smoothed his fingers over the furrows. Jak twitched, and sat bolt upright, but didn't move. Dax whispered meaningless reassurances under his breath as he worked, forming the eco and shifting it to the wound with light touches. He sensed tiny pockets of infection, and overwhelmed them with the eco, washing the taint out of Jak's injuries with a flood of green. He felt for nerve damage around the spine, very carefully, and found nothing. His shoulders slumped with relief, and he continued his work.

Dax finished with the worst injuries, and turned his attention to the half healed wounds crossing and re-crossing Jak's back. The welts and cuts closed over without a mark left on Jak's skin, until finally only the healed over scars remained. Dax worked a little on the scars, mostly on the tissue beneath. The scars themselves would fade, but the muscles continued to work on healing long after the skin was finished. Dax rubbed the green eco into the flesh around the scars with sweeps of his thumbs, urging the torn and aching muscles to heal without marring.

Finally there was nothing left, no injuries to tend to, on Jak's back at least. Dax straightened up and breathed out in a long sigh. It felt a little like he'd been in a healing trance, directing the eco through Jak's body.

"How do you feel now?" Dax asked, and scooted around so he could look Jak in the face. "Now we've got your back done, and we can take care of the rest of you. How does that sound?"

Jak's mouth opened, and he shook his head slightly. His gaze dropped to Dax's hands, which he'd folded in his lap. Jak's hand darted out, moving faster than Dax had expected, and he grabbed both of Dax's hands in one of his own. He lifted Dax's hands and stared at the green that remained, tinting Dax's fingers.

"Yeah, I know," Dax said, laughing a little to hide his unease. "That happens when I use eco. You should see what I look like when I call on blue eco. My hair turns purple!"

Jak looked from Dax's hands, to his face, and back. Then he let go, and held out his arm for Dax's inspection.

"Ah, I see how it is! You just want me for my healing!" Dax mock pouted, but obligingly reached out and began working on Jak's arm. He started up at the shoulder, and pulled on the eco as he went.

Scars and minor cuts, tiny infections and joints that ached in the cold and wet. Dax encouraged it all to heal, pulling on green eco to warm and sooth, to wash away infection and ease joints gone painful before their time. Then again, with the other arm, and finally Jak's chest and torso.

It was only after he was finished, when he sat back, that Dax realized that more than half of Jak's old scars and aches weren't due to metal-head claws after all, but human hands. If those hadn't been knife and needle scars, Dax was a Dark Maker.

"You've been hurt bad, haven't you?" Dax asked, and patted the back of Jak's hand. "I'll just take care of your feet now, okay?"

Jak nodded, his eyes wide and wondering as Dax shifted again, this time so he could pull Jak's foot onto his lap.

"Don't worry about holding still. Feet are ticklish, I know."

He started with the ankles, which- like Jak's hands and wrists, were slightly swollen and stiff from the cold- and worked down. He scowled a little at the lacerated soles, and used a touch of light eco to heal the cuts and infections. It left Jak with heavy calluses, which wasn't a bad thing, since he went around barefoot.

He did the same thing with Jak's other foot, which had the added injury of three torn off toenails. Dax massaged the injured toes, mixing green and light eco together and sinking it into the base of the nails. New toenails grew into place, a dull, soot black instead of the healthy ebony of the other nails.

Jak made a surprised sound, and wiggled his toes. Then he looked up at Dax, and grabbed at the Precursor's hands again. Dax laughed and let Jak capture his hands. There wasn't any harm in it, after all.

Jak stared at Dax's fingers until the green tint had gone away, and made a disappointed sound. "What?" Dax asked. "You liked the green?"

Jak looked up and nodded.

"Well, then here." Dax pulled green eco to the palm of his hand, and let it stay there, a gently glowing orb cradled in his palm. "I'll hold this as long as you want, buddy."


	2. Vacation

**Vacation**

Sig worked on a length of wood, a branch as long and as thick as his arm. He peeled the rough, weathered gray bark off, revealing a pale inner surface, without a crack or rough spot to be found. To the pale wood, he took a knife with a blade smaller than his thumb, and began to make tiny slices.

"What are you going to make?" Dax asked quietly, watching the delicate work being done by such large hands.

"Not sure yet," Sig replied. "I'll see what the wood wants to become."

Dax eyed Sig, and shook his head. The elves were strange, he decided. Not even a Precursor would talk like that.

"You know, when I said I wanted to talk to you someplace safe, I didn't mean your favorite bar." He glanced at a few of the patrons of the Hip Hog, talking loudly and drinking an unnamed, possibly illegal substance. It certainly didn't look anything like the beer Dax was nursing.

"This is the best place I know, if you're going to talk secrets," Sig replied. "Jinx has a few unwritten rules, here."

"Really."

"No fighting, you take it outside. No picking pockets, no stealing, or you'll end up with an arm broken in three places and tossed out the door. Everyone minds their own."

"I'm sure." Just how many smugglers chose this place to make their deals? Probably quite a few of them, Dax decided. He made a mental vow never to visit as an ottsel, or transform. Someone would probably try to skin him for his fur.

"Look, you seemed to think whatever you want to talk about is serious. This place? No one cares that you're a Precursor, most of them don't believe in your kind anyways. You can tell any number of secrets here that you can't back at the Palace." Sig gestured at the room with his knife. "Can you see Count Veger here?"

"Count Vulgar would have a heart attack." It was a good point. Dax took a sip of his beer, and made a face.

"The taste will grow on you."

"I'm sure something will try to grow on me, but I don't think it'll be the taste."

Sig chuckled, and looked back at his carving. It was still impossible to see what was being made, but considering the artist, the subject was probably pretty limited. Dax bet himself five credits that the end result was going to be the peacemaker.

"If you say this place is safe to talk in, then it's safe," he said, after a few minutes. "I'm not just here for the healing, and the advice."

Sig didn't look up. "I didn't think you were, cherry. What are you, a spy?"

"No," he said. Honesty prompted him to continue. "Not exactly. There's not many of us left."

"You've been fighting the Dark Makers-"

"Yes, but even when we- when the elders... Oh, this is hard." Dax shook his head and took another sip of his beer. "We didn't used to have a warrior class. The elders chose to create one. And that helped slow things down, but we're still dying. And you, your people, aren't."

Sig put down his knife. "You want to learn from us?"

"In part. That's why there's an actual, physical presence. Me. So I can learn, and hopefully pass on the observations." Dax looked down, and stared at the bar. He traced a few carvings, names he supposed, and frowned.

"And the other part?" Sig asked, putting the length of wood down.

"Do you believe in prophecies?"

"I have got to introduce you to Onin. Yeah. Why?"

"A few of the Precursors, the elders, have... visions, I guess you'd call them. They had one, just before they sent me. I was told, along with learning how- how you managed to hold off the Dark Makers for months before we stepped in to help, I was supposed to find the child in the vision."

"Child?" Sig asked carefully.

"Yeah. A little kid, maybe three, four years old. Green hair, except where it's been bleached blond, blue eyes. Wears an amulet, with a symbol on it." Dax traced the symbol out. It was similar to the Precursor sign for balance; a circle, half black, half white, with a dot of black in the light half, and a dot of white in the dark half. It wasn't something that had been seen for centuries, not since the war against the Dark Makers had begun.

"I know I've seen that symbol before," Sig said.

"You should. I did some research, when I first arrived." Before he'd stumbled over Healer's Row and felt the bone deep need to heal, before he'd met Jak, even before anyone really believed he was a Precursor. "It's the sign for the royal house of Mar. Damas, the king before Baron Praxis revolted, was one of the last of the family. He had a son. I think that's who I'm supposed to find."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Dax looked up into one dark eye, and one red optic lens. "I was hoping you'd help me look."

Sig reached over and stole Dax's beer. He took two long swallows, which drained the glass, and then looked down at the waiting Precursor. "I'll think about it," he said.

Dax supposed that was the best he was going to get.

**

* * *

**

Another meeting, another headache... Dax rubbed at his temples and sighed.

"Problem, cherry?" Sig asked, falling into step with the Precursor like a well trained guard. Which he wasn't, because well trained guards weren't supposed to dress in the skulls of their enemies, or take such joy in crushing skulls beneath their boots. Though Sig was a lot better than a few of the other palace guards.

"Define problem," Dax replied. "I just spent half an hour arguing with Torn. He wants Jak to go out and fight, I'm saying no way in any of the nine hells is that happening... You know, the usual." He sighed again, and smiled faintly. "Toss in my body deciding it's spent far too much time as an elf and pretty much demanding fur and a tail..."

"That happens?"

"Well, yeah. I was born with a tail. Not having one, it's just unnatural, you know?"

"Cherry," Sig said, "don't even think of giving yourself a tail as an elf."

"That'd be a sight. Don't worry, it wouldn't work. Musculature and everything." Dax stopped walking, and looked around one of the many hallway corners. "Could we go see Jak?"

"You saw him this morning."

"And I'd like to see him again. Please."

Sig's single eyebrow dipped downwards as he thought, and then he shrugged. "Going to be long?"

"I don't know," Dax said, and his shoulders slumped. "I can sleep on a pile of my clothes, easy. And I just... I don't want to sleep in my room tonight."

"Any particular reason?"

"Not really. I just know that if I go to sleep in my room, I'm not going to sleep for most of the night. You know?"

Sig chuckled, and adjusted his grip on the peacemaker's barrel. "I've had those nights before. No worries. Want a blanket or anything?"

"I'll be fine, so long as I don't end up sleeping on my shoes." Dax interpreted the look Sig gave him, and grinned. "I'll be an ottsel. I figure I might as well, right? Get the ache in my tail out."

"Alright then, cherry. Come on." Sig nodded towards the next turning. "Let's get you tucked in, then."

Dax hummed in agreement, and followed behind. Already his headache was starting to ease. It was nice, not arguing with people. Maybe there were more wastelanders out there, ones who wouldn't mind coming to Haven to join Sig in guarding the palace. Something to consider, he decided, and grinned.

"Alright, cherry," Sig said, once they'd reached Jak's room. "I want you to promise me something."

"Shoot." Sig raised his eyebrow and shifted the peacemaker. "Not literally, sheesh."

"Now I know you and the chili pepper are friends. But if you want to sleep in the same room as him, I want you to stay on one side of the bars and him on the other. Okay with you?"

Dax smiled sadly. "I'm not stupid, Sig. Jak's my friend, and I trust he won't hurt me- when I'm awake, and can calm him down. Or get out of his way if I have to. But, asleep? I don't think that'd be a good idea."

Sig's shoulders relaxed, and he nodded. "I didn't think you would be, but you never know. Some of the smartest people I know died from the stupidest things. Not that falling asleep around the chili pepper's stupid, just..."

"I know." Dax shrugged one shoulder. "Anyways. Good night."

"You too."

Dax slipped in through the door, and closed it quietly. Not quietly enough. He heard the sound of rustling blankets and cloth shifting against skin, and his lip twitched. "Hey, Jak," he said. "Thought I'd bunk in here with you tonight. You mind?"

He called an orb of light eco to his hand, which cast just enough light to illuminate the room in shades of gray and shadow. In contrast, Jak's pale skin and hair practically glowed. It was probably ironic or something, but Dax was too tired to appreciate it.

The dark eco saturate sat up and tilted his head. "Of course. It just figures." Dax tossed the orb up into the air, and willed it to hold steady at head height. "You would be nocturnal. Must be the eyes."

Dax quickly stripped down, and folded his clothes into a neat pile halfway between the door and the iron bars. Just as quickly, he shifted to ottsel, and relaxed.

"Well, good night, Jak," he said, and willed the orb to dissipate. "Sweet dreams, buddy."

If Jak replied, it was too dark for Dax to see it.

**

* * *

It was the snarling that woke him up.**

Well, that, and the sound of Sig cursing violently in what _sounded_ like three different languages, but was probably just one with different inflections. Having to dodge Sig's foot woke him up pretty quickly, too.

"Hey!" Dax snapped, and tried to rub sleep out of his eyes while at the same time climb the nearest object, which happened to be the wall. "Wha's going on?"

"Need a light!" Sig. Sounding very frustrated.

Jak replied with a howl that raised the fur along Dax's back. Well if that wasn't the most effective wakeup call he'd ever heard, he was going to jump out of the nearest airlock and do a jig in space. Quick as a thought, he called an orb of light eco into being just below the ceiling, and had it as bright as possible in seconds.

He promptly ran through the bars to Jak, who was much easier to climb then the wall. The eco saturate never even noticed.

"What the heck's going on?" Dax asked, and watched the chaos on the other side of the bars. Sig and some guy almost the same size as the wastelander were wrestling, and not being too careful of where they were putting their feet.

Jak snorted, and backed away from the bars, one hand raised with his claws pointing towards the strange elf.

"You can say that again," Dax replied, and slumped against Jak's neck. "You know, I was planning on sleeping tonight. Dream the dreams of the virtuous. Not be woken up at oh dark in the morning, while my bodyguard wrestles with some masked lunatic and my best friend sounds like a zoomer without a muffler. No offense, buddy."

Jak seemed to glance over at Dax, and the volume of his snarls dropped noticeably.

"Not a lot of help, but thanks."

Sig grunted, drawing Dax's attention back to the mostly silent fight. The two men exchanged blows several times. Sig was wearing his armor, which made what might have been frightening to watch into something a little closer to amusing. It was hard not to grin when Sig's attacker jumped back clutching his hand, after punching the wastelander right in the chest plate.

Sig smirked, and then managed to finish the fight with an uppercut to the strange elf's chin. The elf crumpled to the floor with a gasp, and didn't move.

"Did you kill him?"

"No." Sig crouched down and pressed two fingers against the elf's neck to check. "Just knocked him out."

"Oh, good. Jak? You can calm down now."

The dark eco saturate snarled again, but crouched down against the back wall. His eyes never moved from the fallen elf, and his fangs glinted in the light.

"Lovely," Dax decided, and settled down on Jak's shoulder. He wrapped his tail around Jak's neck carefully, ready to let go the moment his friend showed discomfort, but it didn't happen. "So, any way to call for reinforcements?"

"Probably already on their way," Sig replied. "I'll just drag this guy out of the room, shall I?"

"That's a good idea. You do that."

Sig nodded, and grabbed his former attacker under the armpits. Just as- of course, Dax thought- the door opened again.

"What is going on in here?" Torn asked, and stepped forwards.

Jak promptly freaked.

He threw himself back against the wall, claws raised and eco crackling over every inch of skin and a fair amount of the closest brick. He screeched, loudly enough that both elves flinched, and snarled like a furious metal head.

Sig's eye widened, and in three steps he'd pulled the unconscious elf and Torn both out of the room. Then, with Torn protesting at the top of his lungs, Sig turned and pulled the door mostly closed behind them with his foot.

"Okay then," Dax murmured, and turned to Jak. "It's okay, buddy, the nasty gray faced idiot's gone now. Me and Sig won't let him hurt you. I've got you, Jak."

Torn was going to burn, he decided. Just as soon as Jak was calmed down from his panic attack.

It took two hours. Two hours of constant talking, of pressing up against the side of Jak's head and running his fingers through the hair at Jak's temple. Two hours of feeling his friend shake, two hours of hearing the fear in Jak's voice as he snarled at monsters from memory and imagination. Two hours of getting angrier and angrier, and having to act calm, sound calm, or set Jak off again.

Torn wasn't just going to burn, he was going to be drawn and quartered and skinned alive. There were rules. Rules that were followed, or else.

It was time, Dax decided, for certain elves to learn just what 'or else' meant.

"Jak, I'll be right back," he said, and tugged lightly on Jak's goatee. "I just have to yell at a few idiots, okay? You just wait right here for me, and don't you worry about a thing, okay? I'll leave the light on for you."

Jak made an aborted gesture towards Dax, and then clutched his hand to his chest. Dax's shoulders slumped and his ears slicked back against his head. "I really will come back," he promised. "Look, I'll leave the door open so you can listen in."

But there are monsters out there, Jak's expression seemed to say. And they all have Krimzon Guard tattoos.

"I know they do," Dax murmured. "That's why I'm going to go make 'em wish they'd never been born." He rested his forehead against Jak's cheek. "Don't worry about a thing, buddy."

Jak opened his mouth, then closed it without making a sound. He nodded, and looked warily at the door.

"Yeah, I've got to go through there. Sorry."

Dax jumped down and headed for his clothes. He grabbed his pants and shifted, pulled them on while flesh and bone were still stretching and twisting, and took a deep breath.

As an elf, he was skinny, freckled, and had buck teeth. Not intimidating, not even an image that would get him respect or anything other than contempt.

He was going to make himself Torn's worst nightmare for the next _week_.

"Okay," he breathed, and yanked the door open. "Torn? You and me, we have to talk."

Dax took in the scene at a glance. Sig had the strange, nameless elf, who still hadn't woken up, and was stripping weapons from the strangest of places off the guy. Who knew you could hide a knife in your hair? Sig was going at his self appointed task with what seemed to be single minded determination, but the way he was crouching spoke volumes. Torn wasn't getting any closer to Dark's room than he currently was, across the hall. For that matter, the few people hanging around further down the hall weren't getting any closer, either.

Torn had one of his knives out, and was carefully testing the edge with a thumb. He was also looking very unhappy. Pity.

"What about?" Torn asked, and pointed his knife at Sig's captive. "Who's he?"

"Don't know, don't care, not my problem. Rule number one!"

"Look-"

Dax hissed, and felt dark eco rise up and crackle over his arms and shoulders. Torn jerked backwards like he'd been shot. "Rule. Number. One," Dax said, enunciating carefully. "You don't go into Jak's room. _No one_ from the Guard goes into Jak's room, _especially_ if they have facial tattoos. Like you do. You people tortured Jak, I'm not going to let you hurt him any further. If you upset him again, I'm going to kill you."

"You can't do that," Torn said, gripping the hilt of his knife so tightly his knuckles were white. "You can't-"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do," Dax said, and drew himself up to his full height. Dark eco continued to crackle over him, singeing tiny patches of stonework black. "This conversation is over. Go."

Torn held out another five seconds before he left. To his credit, he managed to make it look like the retreat was entirely his idea, marching down the hall while shouting orders to the hapless observers.

"Well, that just about killed any 'harmless' impressions you gave people," Sig said.

"Good," Dax muttered, and forced the dark eco down. He looked over, and raised one eyebrow. "What, not worried?"

"You weren't threatening me, and I don't have any face markings. At least, not any Guard ones."

"That's a point." The Precursor slumped back against the doorjamb, and eyed Sig's captive. "So, what were you even doing here? Not that I'm complaining, since I doubt that guy had any good thoughts in mind, but..."

"I was guarding you, what else."

Dax blinked. "Uh, Sig? You need to sleep sometime, you know."

"I was." Sig flashed white teeth in a quick grin. "Perfected the art of sleeping on my feet ages ago. Sorry he got past me, though."

"No problem. You stopped him, after all. Uh, you don't _have_ to guard me all the time, you know."

"Sorry, cherry. This assassin disagrees with you."

"Assassin?"

Sig brandished a confiscated mini-gun. "Assassin," he confirmed. "Now, why don't you trundle on back to your friend and calm him down, huh? I'll hand this guy over to the Guard, when they show their useless selves, and we'll find out what he was about in the morning."

"You can find out," Dax said, even as his stomach turned over. "I really don't want anything to do with interrogations, thanks."

"Aw, we'd keep it clean."

"Even so. And Sig? You need to sleep in a bed."

"Back at you."

Dax snorted a chuckle, and headed back for Jak's room. "Okay, Jak. Big bad Torn's been sent packing. Guess you heard." He shut the door, and stretched. "Time for bed, eh? Think you can sleep?"

Jak looked up at Dax, and then down when the Precursor shifted to an ottsel. He remained crouched over in his corner, blanket clutched in one hand. His ears twitched, back and forwards, and then he relaxed, though he still glanced at the door once or twice.

Dax slowly toddled over to Jak's side, too tired even to be wary of sharp claws and an unpredictable temper. "Would you feel better if I left the light on low?" he asked, and gave a mental twist, dimming the light eco orb to a level around moonlight.

Jak relaxed almost all the way, though he stayed sitting up.

"You're not making this easy on me, are you?"

The dark eco saturate carefully picked Dax up, and cradled him close. Jak made low rumbling sounds, deep in his chest, more felt that heard, and tilted his head down.

"Sweet, really, but you need to sleep. So do I. So take a nap so I can take mine, huh?"

Jak's lip twitched, and he gently stroked the back of Dax's neck with one finger.

The ottsel struggled to keep his eyes open, but couldn't manage. Entirely without meaning to, he fell asleep.

**

* * *

Dax decided his entrance into the grand council chamber could have gone better. Everyone, from Torn and Ashelin, down to the servants, stopped and stared when he stepped through the doors.**

He'd expected a reaction, just not one so extreme. He stopped in the doorway and looked over the room, stalling while his heartbeat stopped racing. Sig was a comforting presence right behind him, looming like a tank in elfin skin.

"Okay then," he murmured, and continued towards his chair. He had to walk carefully, as between the robes and the near hyperventilation he was feeling pretty wobbly. Maybe wearing purple and black hadn't been such a good idea, but it'd made sense when he changed his shirt and pants from elfin in style, to Precursorian. He managed to reach the table without tripping over anything, and sat down with an acceptable flourish.

"You!" Veger, of course. The count practically leapt to his feet, one hand outstretched and pointing at Dax's nose. "What are you doing here? Traitor! Time spent with that monster has obviously corrupted you!"

Dax raised one eyebrow, and leaned back in his chair. "Interesting," he said. "I think you've managed to hit a record for how far you can spit while shrieking."

Veger spluttered, and turned a fetching maroon color. "You- you-"

"Me, me, yes, that's kind of obvious. Now then. You said something about corruption?" Dax smiled, and leaned forward. He wanted to call on the dark eco in his system, but that would be a bad idea. He called on the light eco, instead, and in seconds he was glowing gently. Nothing blinding, just a gentle shimmer that reminded everyone just what they were dealing with. "That's a rather serious accusation, especially for a Precursor. Do you, maybe, want to rethink that?"

"You used dark eco," Ashelin said, filling in for the speechless count. "You threatened Torn."

"Which was it you decided meant I was corrupted?" Dax asked, and tilted his head. "The eco, or threatening to kill your boyfriend?"

Ashelin's lips thinned, but her expression didn't much change. "The Dark Makers use dark eco, and so do the metal heads. You can understand what led us to our conclusion."

"Ah. I see." Dax held up one hand, did a quick mental juggling exercise, and stared at the dark eco crackling over his fingers and pooling in the palm of his hand. The rest of him, he was pleased to note, continued to glow gently with light eco. "Have any of you ever heard of _balance_?"

Veger spluttered, and sat down. Ashelin's jaw dropped, and the rest of the councilors showed surprise as per their nature; pulling back or leaning forward, staring or flinching away. One, green Sage Samos, merely nodded.

"Dark Makers are unbalanced towards dark eco, then?" Samos asked, as if he already knew the answer. Maybe he did. Sages were sensitive to the ebb and flow of eco, after all.

"They are. True Precursors, like myself, can use any kind of eco. Light and dark, red, blue, yellow, or green, it really doesn't matter. Granted, we'll be more skilled towards one type or the other, like I am with light eco, but..." He grinned, and gestured with the hand covered in dark eco. "Balance. Light and dark, day and night, healing and killing. I really, really prefer to heal, but..." He arched one eyebrow towards Torn.

"Understood," Torn bit out.

"Now, I think we were going to talk about something else? Like the metal heads and Dark Makers besieging the city?"

The council grabbed onto the change of subject with relief, though not before Ashelin and Samos both gave him _looks_. They both wanted to talk to him, later. Well, that was alright. He'd deal with them then.

The situation inside and outside the city was laid out. Food supplies were gone over, and the council finally decided to ration supplies. A few of the- richer- councilors tried to have the rationing in favor of the so-called upper levels of society, but Ashelin didn't let it get that far. Dax approved, though he kept quiet. The moral in the city was discussed, but short of destroying every last metal head and Dark Maker, there wasn't much anyone could do about it.

Conscription was considered, to help raise the number of KG, but it was finally decided not to be needed. There were enough young men, and women for that matter, who were willing to lay their lives down in defense of the city.

Dax blinked, and realized the council was breaking up. Everything had been hashed and rehashed, and three hours had gone by without his noticing.

"Daxter," Ashelin said. She folded her arms, which made for an interesting effect on her chest. Hadn't anyone told the women in this town that form-fitting leather wasn't the best look if you wanted authority and respect? "I want to talk to you."

"Okay," he said easily. "What about?"

"I'm sure you can guess."

He could. Dax smiled, and stood up. "Stand by, Sig. Take a break for once. I'll be fine."

"If you say so, cherry," Sig replied, but he didn't follow when Dax headed for the Baroness's private room, off the main council chamber.

It was a nice room, tastefully decorated, with comfortable chairs and restful colors. Dax took a seat, and Ashelin stared at the bookcase, seeing as the room had no windows.

"Just what are you thinking?" she asked.

"Right now? I don't think you'd like that. By the way, has anyone told you that armor works better when it covers more of your skin? I know Torn likes your abbreviated uniform, but I don't think he'd like seeing you gutted."

"Be quiet," she snapped, and turned around.

"But you just asked me-"

"Shut up!"

Dax raised his eyebrows, and leaned back in his chair.

Ashelin took a deep breath, and braced her hands against her desk. "What do you think you're playing at, here?"

Dax smiled, and got comfortable.

"Answer me, damn it!"

"You just told me to shut up," he pointed out. "Make up your mind."

Ashelin's cheeks flushed an angry red, which looked interesting with her gray KG tattoos. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Look, you-"

"Alright," Dax said, interrupting her. "I'm not _playing_ at anything."

"No?" Ashelin bared her teeth in an impressive snarl. "You're wasting your time with that- that dark warrior project. Yes, it's sad what happened to him, but there are more important things to spend your time on! The city's shields, for one. The people on Healer's Row, for another!"

Dax took a deep breath, and bit back his first, angry words. Stop and think. "Just because he's not on Healer's Row doesn't mean he doesn't need help," he said softly. He had to make her _think_. "There's a young, frightened man beneath the claws and the snarls, one who was tortured by your father- shut up, I'm talking- and who's still being tortured. By you. By Torn. By every member of the Krimzon Guard that shows up and puts him back in that prison cell. Maybe it's just a memory. That doesn't matter.

"The city's shields are fine without me. There's only so much healing I can do every day without burning out, and besides that, there's plenty of green eco and charged salves for even regular doctors to take care of the injured. But that's not why you're upset, is it? I'm making you remember what your father did, forcing it into your face. Because your father created Jak, in a way, and instead of being able to hide him away in a prison cell or use him up in fighting the Dark Army, I'm not letting you forget. I'm forcing you to face what happened. What's still happening."

"That's crazy!" Ashelin closed her eyes, and apparently focused on her breathing. "He's a feral monster."

"No more than you or I would be, in his situation. The metal heads are feral. The Dark Makers are definitely monsters. Jak's just an unfortunate man who needs a lot of help. Which I'm giving him. By being his _friend_."

Ashelin finally sat down in her chair, looking for once not like an angry young Baroness, but a confused young woman. "Are you really going to try to save everyone?"

That wasn't what he was doing, was it? He certainly didn't want to save Veger, and most of the people he knew didn't need saving, but... "Yeah," he decided. "I am."

"But you can't."

"I still have to try," Dax said, and stood up. He reached over and placed one hand gently on top of Ashelin's. "Otherwise, the world we'll end up with won't be worth living in."

Ashelin sighed, and turned her hand over, so that their palms pressed together. "You're insane."

"I'm a Precursor, it's kind of a job requirement."

**

* * *

Samos caught up with him in the hall. It seemed to be a day for talking to people. "I wanted to ask you about Jak."**

Jak. Not 'the Dark Warrior project', not 'the monster'- it was a good thing someone remembered the guy's name, wasn't it? So why was his scalp crawling?

"Sure," Dax replied, as easily as possible. He glanced over at Sig. "Where should we talk?"

"I have an office," Samos replied. "If you'll follow me?"

Dax nodded, and followed after the Sage easily. Samos was an interesting man, but not one Dax felt very comfortable around. He had a feeling that- if not for being a Precursor- Samos would have been very happy to use that staff on Dax's head, and frequently. Other than that, there really wasn't any reason to feel uncomfortable around the Sage. He was a competent healer, and if his bedside manner left something to be desired, well, comfort was in short supply these days. He was always a calm voice of reason during the council meetings. By the green tint to his skin, he was a powerful Sage as well.

Dax sighed, and rolled his eyes. Well, he didn't have to get along with everyone, so long as he could do his job.

Samos turned into a corner of the Palace Dax didn't have much experience with, where the councilmen kept their offices. Samos', Dax could see, was wallpapered with charts of elfin anatomy in all its gory detail, a copy of patrol reports concerning the mountains, and one thick file that was labeled 'Dark Warrior Project'.

"I wanted to talk to you about... Well, about this." Samos laid one hand on the thick folder, and gave Dax a mournful look. "I tried to help Jak myself, you see, when we first rescued him from the Baron."

"Hold on, I'll just grab a chair and then you can explain."

Dax settled down in the chair, and waited.

"Well," Samos cleared his throat, and continued, "It began a little over five years ago, when Baron Praxis still ruled. We- that is, the rebellion- began to hear stories of a great weapon being used outside the walls. I knew what it was, of course, but I supposed I'd hoped-"

"Wait," Dax said, and leaned forward. "How'd you know?"

"Hm? Oh, from my younger years. Well, I say younger, but..."

"And how could something that happened fifty years tell you what happened now?"

"A bit less than fifty," Samos snapped. "And time travel, if you really must know."

"I think you'd better start from the very beginning," Dax said, his voice cold. "Time travel?"

Sig shifted in his corner, and raised his eyebrow. "This have anything to do with rumors I heard, now and again? How the rebellion seemed to know what was going to happen before it did?"

"I was born here in Haven," Samos said, and sighed. "Back when the king ruled, and not Baron Praxis. That was a dirty takeover, and the king was killed or exiled, not that it mattered much. Exile to the wasteland is a death sentence."

"Eh, some of us survive out there," Sig said.

"Well, I grew up in Haven, and joined the rebellion as soon as there _was_ a rebellion. Praxis had closed the schools- I was studying to be a doctor, you see, and suddenly I wasn't allowed. I acted as the healer, and somehow or other I ended up being called 'The Shadow', perhaps because I never left the headquarters. At least, not voluntarily."

"What about the time travel?" Dax asked.

"I'm getting to that! So impatient..." Samos huffed, and folded his arms. "Youngster, didn't anyone tell you to wait?"

"I'm probably older than you are," Dax said easily. "Precursors live a long time, and healers even longer." Which was a depressing thought, so he wasn't going to think about it anymore. "Moving on... Time travel?"

Samos huffed again, but nodded. "Well, I ended up with something of a ward, a young child who had been orphaned by the war. He had some talent channeling eco, not that I let him do much of it. Too much too young can burn a person out, and he had potential. Great potential." The Sage sighed, and stared at one of his anatomy charts. "Well, to make a long story short, I grew quite attached to the child. Either he was born mute, or was too young, or what had happened to his parents had traumatized him, but the end result was the same. He could not tell me his name, and so I called him Jak."

"Jak?" Dax's ears pricked up. "Our Jak? But you said five years ago- time travel!"

"Yes," Samos agreed. "Well, a little over three years ago, an older version of myself- which would be me, now, I suppose, though it gives me a headache to think about- appeared from nowhere in the water slums. And my older self came with a daughter, Keira, and... Jak."

"Who would've been grown up."

"Yes. Fourteen years old, and captured by Baron Praxis." Samos sighed, and shook his head. "I had hoped to change things. Well, in the end Praxis was dead and I, and my young ward, were sent back in time five hundred years, so Jak could grow up in safety and I could try to change the future. In a way, I succeeded. We rescued Jak from Praxis, instead of killing him, yet he was still tortured and turned into a beast."

"He's not a beast," Dax said, with some heat.

"No, but he was." Samos looked up. "You didn't see him when we first rescued him. He didn't seem to realize things had changed. We fed him, and kept him safe, and not one of us did anything to threaten him, but..."

"He'd been tortured. Did you even try to help him?"

"Of course I did! I, my daughter Keira, we both tried! Keira tried to talk to him but he didn't know who she was. I finally forbid her from trying. The stress was making her sick, and I didn't want my daughter to have an ulcer."

"And you tried to heal him?" Samos nodded, and Dax frowned. "Did you try to talk with him?"

"Keira tried. And of course I talked to him."

"I said with, not at," Dax murmured, but it wasn't important. "Well, you tried, I guess. That's something."

"I'm so glad you approve," Samos snapped, one hand groping for his staff.

Dax eyed the walking stick and snorted. "Considering I'm the senior healer," he began.

Samos interrupted him. "Senior healer? You? You're nothing but a child!"

"I'm older than you are," Dax said, and smiled at Samos' look of shock. "I'm a Precursor. I might have mentioned that we age slowly? I could probably be your grandfather, or great-grandfather at a stretch. At any rate, you tried. I'm sorry you couldn't do anything, but I am helping Jak now." He nodded at the file folder. "I guess you wanted to tell me about what was done?"

"Perhaps there was some hope that you would be able to help reverse it," Samos admitted.

"I'll take a look through and see what I can do," Dax promised, and accepted the folder. It was very heavy, and he imagined it would be an interesting, if disturbing, read. "Thanks for telling me... Well, telling me."

"Of course," Samos said, and remained sitting as Dax let himself and Sig out.

Sig lead the way back to the more familiar halls in silence, though once they'd reached Dax's room he glanced down. "So how old are you?" he asked.

Dax smiled sadly. "Years don't determine how old you are, just how long you've lived," he said. "It's the experiences. I'm as old as I look, Sig."

**

* * *

Dax wandered through the bazaar, one hand on his money pouch and the other in his pocket. Scents and sounds, bewildering in their combinations, washed over him. He stopped to examine a table of silk scarves, each one long enough, and made of enough fabric, to turn into a shirt. He fingered one scarf, a brilliant green one with faint yellow embroidery at the hems, and smiled.**

"Ten credits for you, sir," the stall owner offered.

"No thanks," Dax replied. "I'm just looking." Besides, not to slight the merchant or anything, but he could make himself something better out of a dirty rag and some eco. Being a Precursor had some advantages.

The stall owner shrugged and turned to another potential customer, and Dax moved on.

There were stalls for fabrics, bolts of silk and cotton, canvas and velvet, flannel and gauze. There were stalls where the fabrics had been turned into clothes, and stalls for leather and leather goods. Food merchants were right next to incense merchants, and the herb healers that sold basic remedies.

He was in mostly for the sightseeing. Sig had just about tossed him out of the palace, and really, Dax couldn't feel too resentful.

"You're turning paler than a mushroom, cherry, and you'll soon be sick of seeing my ugly mug. Get out, get some sun, bring us back some treats. I'll keep an eye on the chili pepper." Sigh had laughed. "He ain't heard all my stories yet, so at least he won't be falling asleep on me!"

All of Dax's protests that he hadn't heard Sig's stories either had fallen on deaf ears. Though, honestly, walking through the bazaar on his own, no guards, no one nodding or bowing- at least no more than they did for other people- and with a gentle breeze tugging at his hair, it was nice.

He should've done it before.

The crowd carried him down several short corridors, and then left him near a food stall. Well, he was getting hungry. It couldn't hurt to get a little something. Everything seemed to be fried in sugar and dough, and at the back of the stall was the seller's little cook area, which gave off mouth-watering smells. Dax looked over the options and decided on a few pieces of sugar pastry, fried until they were crispy.

He'd just passed over the proper amount of credits when the shield-wall gave out.

All at once the sunlight was brighter, warmer. He looked up, and the sky had lost that flickering, red tint from the shield. The ever-present hum he'd never even _noticed_ was... gone.

The shield was down.

And the Dark Army was outside.

Dax yelled, and dropped his food.

The elves in the bazaar started screaming.

He felt the eco twist, gather, and begin to disperse. There was a roar from just over the physical walls that enclosed the city.

There was no time to think, no time to _stop_ time. Act, now- or die.

Dax threw eco towards the industrial sector, where Vin and other engineers and mechanics worked to keep the shield generator working day and night. He felt the generator, the many pieces and cogs and gears trying to turn but something had gotten stuck. He blasted the sticking point with light eco, flooded the generator's eco stores, and felt the Dark Army realize what he'd done.

Five Dark Makers teleported into the city. For a second, maybe two, they hung senseless in the void. Helpless.

He couldn't send them back. He _could_ pull them _in_, so they wouldn't be strewn about the city.

He grabbed, pulled- and the shield-wall came back up, thwarted hate and rage racing through the city's eco- and brought his own shield up, forcing it outwards and shoving people back. Five feet- ten feet- fifteen feet down the street, screaming and clutching at their neighbors.

And then the Dark Makers arrived, each one eight feet tall, black crystal gleaming, rage and hate and pain radiating from them, the emotions almost visible in the morning sunlight.

Screaming and clutching at their neighbors became screaming and running for their lives. Dax was happy to see them go. This would be so much easier if the elves just let him deal with the Dark Makers.

The KG would show up, fast. All he had to do was keep the Dark Makers in place, and distract them, and someone else would deal with the monsters.

There was a high pitched scream from just down the street. Dax resignedly turned his head, and matched gazes with the little girl and her mother, tucked behind the market stall.

Of _course_ he'd miss one or two, who ducked behind solid, reassuring wood barriers.

Dax called yellow eco to hand, and threw the first ball at the furthest Dark Maker. "You guys want Precursors?" he shouted. "I'll give you one!"

The first Dark Maker lunged. Dax could see, just behind it, the mother grab her child and run. Good, that was one worry down.

He dodged claws sharper than knives and as long as his arm, and pulled recklessly on his eco stores. Yellow and light twined together and practically leapt from his palms, slamming the Dark Maker back against a pottery stall. Amid the shattering of plates and bowls was a low, almost sub-sonic snarl of anger.

"Yeah, yeah, you lot talk a great ga-ah!" He ducked, and almost ended up with a really bad haircut. He _needed_ that scalp, damn it.

He avoided another three swipes, and focused on red eco. Power, he could use some power now. Strength, the solidity to take a hit and barely notice. His muscles warmed, flexed, and the next blow aimed at him was caught. He couldn't manage to wrap his two hands around the Dark Maker's one wrist, but that didn't matter. He dug his fingers into crystalline armor and twisted until the crack-snap told him he'd broken the Dark Maker's wrist. Then he let go and ducked between another Dark Maker's legs, coming up behind and out of the way.

Out of the way for all of two seconds. This wasn't going to work. He was going to die. If Jak were here, then yeah, there'd be a chance of killing all five Dark Makers, but Jak wasn't here, Jak was on vacation, and the Dark Makers were looking at Dax and just about licking their lips.

Not that they had lips.

Dax managed to shield just in time for three dark eco blasts to hit it. He screamed, which was a really useless reflex he needed to get rid of as soon as possible. Then he exploded the shield, shards of light eco radiating outwards and lacerating the attacking demons. They stumbled back, howling in chorus.

_So do it again!_

Another shield, this one lasting just long enough for the eco to settle, and then expanding so fast Dax felt the drain, like a slit vein. The eco was just being poured out on the thirsty ground, and was it even doing anything against the Dark Makers?

He managed to get two of them pinned between the shield and the battered stalls. The other three roamed around the edge of the shield, wary of the light eco, but ever so determined to get at the Precursor within.

Dax smirked at them and exploded the shield.

Three Dark Makers were on the ground. One was on its knees, clawing at the ground and snarling like a pack of metal-heads. And one was on its feet, clutching its head, and keening. The sound drilled in through the ear and stabbed the brain, until Dax wanted to fall down clutching his bleeding ears.

Then the keening Dark Maker exploded.

The one next to it, the one kneeling but still mostly upright, screeched and turned its face away from the blast, which only meant it was looking at one of its fellows when it, too, blasted apart.

"Erk." Dax stared at the greasy, dark patches where the Dark Makers had been. The ground was smoking. "Well. Ah. Erk."

The three remaining Dark Makers screamed and skipped getting to their feet, going straight for attacking on all fours.

Dax twisted away from them, but not fast enough. One managed to fasten its jaws on his hand, and pull and _rip_-

Crimson splattered on the ground. Dax screamed, and brought his free hand down on the Dark Maker's head. He didn't even think, he just called on the light eco and shoved it into the Dark Maker.

...Next time he was going to do that behind shields. Getting caught in explosions wasn't fun.

He cradled his injured hand to his chest and rolled. Claws dug into the ground where he'd been. Another shield, one that flickered right before it expanded and blew up into shards of white violence. He was running out of eco, or strength, or both.

Dax got to one knee, and stared at the two remaining Dark Makers. They stared back, silent and oh, so _very_ threatening.

He wanted his mom. His dad. Even his baby sister, young and deadly and who'd eat these two monsters as a _snack_. Being rescued would be nice, but it seemed he was on his own.

Damn.

The Dark Maker on the left made a sound that was horrifically like a laugh, and stood up. The Dark Maker on the right continued on all fours, edging around Dax. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they wanted to do. Get him between them, and then crush him.

"Not today," he said, and got to his feet. He stumbled a little without moving, and then let go of his injured hand. It throbbed, and blood dripped from the wound. All the red in the world couldn't hide the flashes of white bone, though.

Enough. He was a healer. He'd take care of it as soon as the Dark Makers were dead.

He pulled on his eco stores, every last glimmer and glint, and formed a deadly glowing orb in the palm of his hand. The Dark Makers immediately focused on it. Which was good, because it meant they were ignoring his other hand, the bleeding one. He closed his fingers around an imaginary hilt, and felt eco tingle at his fingertips.

Only one chance at this, and it had better damn work, or he was going to be breathing with punctured lungs next.

He lifted the orb slightly, and the Dark Maker in front of him tensed, ready to throw itself out of the way of the blast.

Dax took a deep breath, and jumped forwards, throwing the orb back without looking. It'd either hit or it wouldn't. Either way, it was going to make a very big crater in the ground.

A knife of eco blinked into existance in his injured hand, and he ducked under the Dark Maker's arms and slammed the blade home between a join in the armor. Armpits were tricky places to shield, anyways.

Matching shrieks hurt his ears, and he threw himself away from the flailing arms and claws. Then first one, and then the other Dark Maker exploded.

Dax stumbled and fell to his knees, and felt all feeling in his hands and feet go away. Which was good. Because he hurt, everywhere, and the hurt was going away. There were no more Dark Makers. He could fall over now.

So he did.


	3. Wasteland

**Wasteland**

"I am never fighting again." Dax winced, and kept his gaze fastened firmly on the ever so interesting picture of an elfin urinary system, male and female. Was there some sort of law in the galaxy, that healers had to have pictures of vital organs and all the ways they could go wrong, posted on their walls? Was that really conducive to a healing atmosphere?

Samos snorted, and tugged on the length of bandage he was wrapping around Dax's hand. "I would say that's the first intelligent thing you've said all day."

"Thanks," Dax drawled. "I think."

"You're lucky you didn't lose fingers."

"I guessed that, what with seeing my own bones. Oh, and the blood. And I really shouldn't forget the drain on my eco stores either."

The green Sage finished his wrapping, and taped the end of the bandage down. "Don't get it wet. Don't eat with it if you can help it. Your eco stores?"

"Empty," Dax replied, ears drooping. "I mean, some food and a good night's sleep will help, but right now I wouldn't be able to heal a bruise."

"Which explains why you look like a masked ferret."

"Ottsel. I'm pretty sure ferret's in there, somewhere."

"Hm. What in the Precursor's name were you _thinking_, boy?"

Dax sighed, and looked up at the ceiling. "Mostly that I was going to die, and if that was going to happen I damn well was taking them out with me. The shield wall fell, Samos. It went up pretty quickly, yeah, but they were already 'porting in. I couldn't have stopped them if I'd tried, and if I hadn't pulled them in, they'd have ended up all over the city instead of in one spot."

"So you explained to Torn and Ashelin."

Yeah, that hadn't been a happy little interview. Sig had some rough field medic skills, but there was only so much you could do with strips torn from a shirt. Ashelin had been yelling, Torn had been rasping as loudly as he could, Sig had been quietly insisting that Dax see a healer _now_, and the Baroness and Commander had only shut up when Samos whacked them each a good one.

It'd been nice to see, though.

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly intend... I didn't go out in the city to get in a fight. I was thinking of picking up some treats for Jak and Sig and just feeling the sun on my face and having conversations that had nothing, or mostly nothing, to do with the war." Dax sighed. "I don't think Sig's going to let me go anywhere alone anymore."

Samos looked around his empty office. "He's invisible?"

"Your office doesn't count. Besides, he was looking sort of gray. I don't think he likes the sight of blood."

The Sage stared, speechless. Dax blushed, and hurried to explain. "Elfin blood, I mean. Metal-heads don't really bleed, they kind of run on oil or something."

"I see."

"No you don't."

"You're right, I don't, but it doesn't matter. How do you feel right now?"

"Like crap," Dax said honestly. "I'm going to fall over soon, and I only hope it'll be into a bed. Might be onto the floor."

Samos raised his eyebrows above his- unique- spectacles. "You don't seem tired to me," he said. "Or in shock, for that matter."

"Precursor," Dax reminded him. "My reactions are weird. Believe me, I'm in shock. Eco drain isn't fun. I have no idea how our warriors manage it."

"Healers must use their eco to the utmost."

"Healers are trained for it, they expend the eco over a long period of time, and unless it's an emergency it's not all at once like in a fight. The difference between donating blood and slashing your arm with a knife. You lose the same amount of blood, one's just a hell of a lot quicker and more painful than the other."

"If anyone else was giving me lectures after fighting five Dark Makers to exhaustion, I'd be looking for the espresso," Samos grumbled. "Precursors talk when they're in shock?"

"Go figure." Dax grinned, and stood up. The world spun and went a lovely shade of black for three very long seconds. "Okay, time for bed."

"See me tomorrow. I'll check your hand then."

"Okay, Logs-a-lot." Dax moved carefully to the door, and used it to help support his weight as he swung it open. Then the door wasn't there and he was leaning forward and oh he was going to have such a _nice_ meeting with the floor- Sig managed to catch him by the arms, and held him while he got his feet under him again.

"Well, cherry, I guess I know where you're going next."

"If the word is 'bed' you win five hundred thousand credits."

Sig chuckled, and wrapped one arm around Dax's waist. "I won't take your money, cherry."

"Kind of you."

"Just stay awake. I don't think your reputation would be helped by me carrying you. Unless you like being the damsel in distress."

"I am not a damsel." Dax tripped over his own feet, and crashed into Sig's side. "In distress- well, that's negotiable."

Sig chuckled, and pushed open Dax's suite door. "I'll let you sleep yourself out cherry."

"No."

"No?" The giant wastelander arched one bare eyebrow. "Why no?"

"I want you to wake me up for dinner. With Jak." Dax lifted his chin. "I'm going to have to eat anyways. I might as well keep to the routine and eat with Jak. Otherwise he'll worry."

"He's going to worry anyways," Sig said, and brushed his fingers against Dax's forehead. "But if you insist."

"I do."

"Alright then. I'll let you sleep yourself out until dinner." Sig looked away. "I'll call a couple KGs to stand on your door."

"Going somewhere?" Dax asked, barely paying attention. His bed was right there, the world was swaying, and he really wanted to just curl up and sleep. For once it didn't even matter that he was in elfin shape and clothed.

"Need to talk to a couple people. Sleep well, cherry."

Dax nodded and flopped down face first in the bed. He was asleep seconds after his head touched the pillow.

**

* * *

**

"Did you hear?"

"Hear what? I don't hear anything, I'm stuck cleaning this place."

"Better than the monster's room."

"Didn't you know? Restricted access."

"Anyways, so you didn't hear."

"If you don't explain what you're talking about, I'm going to hit you with this broom."

"Ooh, scary. Did they teach you that in the guard?"

"Karl!"

"Alright, alright! Stop swinging that thing around, you're going to break something. You know how the shields fell?"

"They got 'em back up. Seconds."

"Vin says the Precursor did it. You know, the ugly guy?"

"He's not a Precursor. Count Veger says-"

"Veger wouldn't know reality if it painted itself bright blue and kicked him in the nuts. Ugly's a Precursor. Anyways. The shields fell, and then went back up, but when they were down Dark Makers got into the city!"

"Oh- Precursors! What was the casualty rate? Anyone we know?"

"Don't go running off, no one died. Well, none of our people. The Dark Makers died, though."

"Huh. How'd you get this?"

"Was cleaning up the blood."

"Huh?"

"I'm _getting_ to that, sheesh."

"Well you can help me clean, then, if you're going to talk my ear off."

"Pass me the mop, then. You sweep."

"I _am_ sweeping, dumbass."

"Right, right. So these Dark Makers got into the city. In the bazaar. Dunno how many. Seven or ten or something. Anyways, the Precursor was there. Must've gotten a premonition, like that crazy old biddy down in that place."

"Or maybe he was going to talk to the crazy biddy."

"Maybe. Either way, the Precursor fought them. Almost died, too."

"Stop gloating, Karl. Precursor or no, he's a good guy."

"Yeah? Then why the hell's there only him, huh? He's not even good for anything except healing."

"I owe him my life."

"Then why're you listening to Veger the Vulgar?"

"He's my mom's uncle, okay? Besides, the guy doesn't need to be a Precursor to be a good healer."

"Okay, okay. Anyways, I know this because they needed someone to clean up the blood, and her royal highness and the traitor were talking while I did my thing with the mop."

"How much blood?"

"Enough the guy must've lost a limb or something. I haven't seen that much since I did my stint cleaning down in Healer's Row."

"Well, hell, you kind of have to feel sorry for the guy, then."

"I don't. If he's a Precursor, he can re-grow lost limbs, right? And if he isn't, then he'll be revealed as a fake."

"You're such a cynic, Karl."

Jak stopped listening, and scraped his claws against the floor. Dax was hurt?

**

* * *

**

His mattress was... moving. Up and down. And it seemed to be almost vertical, instead of horizontal like a normal bed.

Okay. How much had he drunk last night and where was he?

Dax cracked one eye open, and automatically tensed at the sight of someone's overly muscular arm, about an inch away from his nose. Three seconds after he'd opened one eye, a heavy arm- not the one he was staring at- tightened around his back, tugging him closer to- a chest, he realized. A muscular, male chest, and if he didn't figure out where he was in one-point-three seconds someone was getting blown through a _wall_.

He jerked back as far as the arm wrapped around his back would allow, and stared up at his captor's face. And immediately relaxed. "Jeez, Jak," he whispered, relaxing back against the eco saturate's shoulder. "Give me a little warning, next time."

The lug didn't wake up. He merely snorted and wrapped Dax up even _tighter_, but that was okay, it wasn't like Dax needed to breathe... And it was kind of nice, snuggling up against Jak. The guy was very warm, which was a blessing in a room made almost completely out of stone. He was sturdy, which was kind of a given, and okay, maybe the muscles meant it was like cuddling with a rock person, but whatever. Warm rock person.

His arm was going numb. Dax frowned, and tried to shift a little, but Jak's grip pretty much nixed that idea.

"Okay, Jak, time to wake up." Nothing. "Jak!" Why oh why hadn't he fallen asleep in a position where he could elbow the guy in the ribs?

"Comfortable, cherry?"

"Sig?" Dax turned his head, and frowned at the wastelander. "What- how'd I get here?" And why did Sig look so damn gleeful and why was he holding a camera and oh shit no. "Don't you dare!"

"Don't I dare what?" Sig asked, feigning innocence. He walked over to the bars and then leaned against them.

"You know very well what!" Dax struggled against Jak's arms, but they were heavier than lead and stronger than iron, it seemed. And still the saturate didn't wake up! "Don't make me come over there!"

Sig snickered, and raised his eyebrow. "Now, you seem to be having difficulty with that."

"Argh! Jak, wake up!"

Nothing. Although Dax was fairly certain the corners of Jak's lips were starting to twitch, but that might have just been the angle he had to crane his neck at to see the guy's face. No, wait, no, that really was a smile struggling to get out. "I know you're awake you big lug, now wake up so I can strangle Sig!"

"If he's already awake," Sig said, sounding like he was choking back laughter, "why does he need to wake up?"

"You're doomed," Dax muttered, and pounded one fist against Jak's shoulder. It had about as much effect as tossing a pebble at one of those oversized wasteland metal-heads, which was to say: none. "Doomed. And so are you, fang-boy, because once I get free I'm gonna get you but good."

Jak cracked open one eye, and grinned wide enough to reveal the mentioned fangs. He unwrapped one arm from around Dax's back, and ruffled Dax's poof of hair carefully.

Dax was about to reply when there were several bright flashes of light. "_Sig_!"

The large man cackled, and then bolted from the room. Jak refused to let Dax free to go after him.

* * *

"So what, exactly, happened last night?" Dax asked, twitching his sleeves into place. There was nothing to do about the pictures; Sig had obviously hidden the camera, or taken it to wherever it was taken to get the pictures made. Precursors didn't go in for cameras, much. They had other ways of capturing memories and doing surveillance.

"Well," Sig said, drawing the word out, "you were pretty much dead on your feet when I woke you up. Then you insisted on going down to dinner, but you weren't pretty coherent. Walked into a few walls, which probably didn't help. When you showed up in the chili pepper's room, he pounced on you."

"And I decided he made a great bed?"

"Apparently."

Dax groaned and rubbed one hand against his face. "Great. I'm still going to get you for that camera."

"No doubt," Sig said. He shoved open the council room door, and held it for Dax.

Dax moved quickly to his usual spot, and was quietly surprised when, instead of standing behind him, Sig sat down next to him. "I'm going to be doing some talking," Sig murmured. "And you're not going to like it."

"Is it going to be worse than the camera?"

"Maybe," Sig said, and then fell silent when Ashelin and Torn both stood up.

Ashelin looked grim, and slapped several papers down on the table in front of her. "We," she declared, "are in trouble."

Torn slanted a look in her direction, and spoke up. "It is difficult to hold our own against the Dark Army," he said. "You're all aware of it, but you should know that they're massing against us again, and the options are... grim. However, there may be an option available to us, if we take a risk."

"A risk?" Samos asked. "Nothing like Praxis was-"

"No," Ashelin said. "More of an... alliance."

"With?" a councilor asked. Dax tried to remember her name, but couldn't.

Sig cleared his throat and stood up. "With the wastelanders, ma'am," he said.

"Metal-head hunters?" the councilor asked. "I thought you had just gone and joined the guard."

"In a manner of speaking, but I wasn't speaking of Haven's wastelanders. I was speaking of, well, Haven's exiles. The ones who were sent to the wasteland."

There was a brief moment of silence, and then everyone started talking at once. Dax didn't even try to figure out who was saying what. Instead, he was staring up at Sig and trying to think.

"Haven's exiles?" he murmured. "Called wastelanders?" Already he had a bad feeling about it all.

Sig cleared his throat and rapped his knuckles against the table, which managed to quiet people down. Everyone except Veger, who continued on with his little rant against 'criminals and outlaws' and just what he felt should be done to them.

Dax sighed, and glared at Veger. "Hey! No one cares."

Veger stopped in mid-word, and managed to look down his nose at Dax from across and halfway down the table. "You have no understanding of how our political and cultural systems work," he said.

"In other words, you don't have an effective insult in mind, and so you're just going to blab whatever sounds impressive?"

"The both of you, be quiet," Ashelin snapped. "Continue, Sig."

"Yes, ma'am. Now, you're aware that Haven's had a policy of throwing exiles out into the wasteland to die. But, well, most times they live. They built their own city, Spargus, half a day's flight by zoomer, into the wasteland. They're ruled by the strongest of them, they hold contests, and they'll occasionally take in the odd metal-head hunter like myself, who heads out into the wasteland for the big 'uns."

There were several grim nods around the table, though Dax himself didn't react. They exiled people? Okay, fine, but who'd name a place 'Spargus'? It sounded kind of silly. Like asparagus.

"Those of us who're Haven citizens and also have Spargus citizenship act as their agents, you might say, getting supplies they can't grow or make themselves." Sig shrugged. "They're a tough lot, they've had to be, and they're used to dealing with the big metal-heads, the ones that mostly died when the metal-head leader did. A couple small ones like we've been dealing with wouldn't be hard for them."

"Small?" Samos asked, looking a little gray under the green.

"Well, yeah," Sig said, and shrugged again. He reached up and tapped his metal-skull shoulder armor with one finger. "This was one of the little ones."

Now most of the people looked gray. Dax, for his part, was still trying to figure out just how big a wasteland metal-head was to make the ones outside Haven look little.

After a long moment Ashelin spoke again. "And you think they would help, these Wastelanders?"

Sig nodded. "I checked. They're dealing with the same things- well, not the same, exactly. And not as much. But they did have metal-heads and Dark Makers attacking, but my contacts say even those attacks have pretty much gone to nothing."

Torn nodded. "The Dark Army is refraining from fighting a war on two fronts, which is unfortunately wise of them."

Dax leaned back in his chair, and cleared his throat. "Okay, Sig, so what's the bad news? Warriors from heck who'd probably ally themselves with us if we ask nicely, but what do they want? All Haven's wealth, all the women, what?"

"I don't know," Sig admitted.

"You don't know, or don't want to tell us?" Veger asked, sneering.

"I don't know," Sig repeated, and glared. "Look, the final word about allying with Haven or not has to come from the king. And he's got kind of an issue with Haven."

"An issue," Ashelin said. "Explain?"

This time Sig rolled his eye. "Spargus is populated by Haven's exiles. Why do you think he'd have issue with us? I don't know the whole story, but he got tossed out and his family was left here. A lot of people probably lost their families, but _he's_ the king."

"Would he be willing to deal with us, even so?" Ashelin asked. "If it's merely a matter of finding his family for him, then we would be more than willing."

"I don't know," Sig said. "He's the king, he can't just think for himself."

"Would he even listen to an envoy?" Torn asked.

"Probably not."

That wasn't very helpful, Dax decided, and frowned. It wasn't like they had anyone who wasn't from Haven. Even Sig, who obviously identified himself as a Havenite first and a Spargan second. And if this King of Spargus wouldn't listen to anyone from Haven, they were sunk.

Or... not. Dax took a deep breath and stood up.

He immediately had everyone's attention. That was the thing about being a Precursor, he thought wryly. Even if you wanted to be ignored, they paid attention. "I'm not from Haven."

Sig promptly winced and clapped one hand down on Dax's shoulder. "That's true."

"And I'm not needed here, not really. I'm like- like a safety net, but you were fighting the Dark Army without me for half a year before I showed up. So I can leave, and you wouldn't be any worse off."

"That's not true," Ashelin said, and glared down the table at several councilors who looked like they wanted to argue. "We do need you, though you're right, not for fighting."

"You have enough healers of your own."

"That isn't what I meant. You're wise, Daxter. And you're an outside perspective." Ashelin sighed. "Still, I understand. You are one of the only people who won't give offense simply because of your city of origin."

"I didn't come from a city," Dax muttered, but that was for form's sake.

After that, not even Veger arguing that sending an inhuman lunatic to plead the city's case stopped it. Dax was going to Spargus.

* * *

Being an envoy for Haven was a lot more complicated than being an envoy for the Precursors. On his request Ashelin had arranged for him to get all the worn out clothing, whether it was a uniform or not. For him, it was easy enough to twist the cloth into Precursor outfits. Robes, pants, shirts, even shoes and boots. It was easy to make himself clothing and fret about hems and colors than think about what he was going to have to talk to Sig about.

Because Sig wasn't going to like it. At all.

Dax didn't like it either, but it was one of those necessary things that absolutely sucked and the universe just refused to be fair. There were probably things in the darkness of space that hated all life, even Dark Makers, and sought to kill it all. Because sure as hell Dax didn't want this to happen, and if Precursors really did control fate, it wouldn't happen, would it?

"Cherry? You've been folding that shirt for five minutes now."

"Right. Thinking." He set the shirt aside, and looked up at Sig. "I've got a favor to ask. A big one."

"Depending on what it is, I might be able to help you. Cracking skulls, I'm your man."

"I don't know if skulls will be involved," Dax said, after a moment's thought. "Sorry. But other than that, big favor."

"Go on."

Okay, deep breath, and get it over quickly. "."

Sig blinked. Even the red replacement for his eye flickered. "Uh, a little slower?"

"I want you to stay here and watch Jak for me. Please."

"I'm your bodyguard, cherry. Want to explain why you want to get rid of me?" Sig shifted the peacemaker from his shoulder, and leaned on it. "You're going to need me. Spargus is full of big feet, and unless you want to stomp all over them, you'll need a friendly native."

"It's Jak," Dax said, struggling to keep the misery from his voice. Going by Sig's expression, he hadn't succeeded all that well. "I'm leaving him, Sig. He can't come with me, you know that, and no one else cares to take care of him."

"And you think I do?"

"At least you treat him like a person!" Great, now his voice was breaking. Any minute now he'd collapse onto his bed and start crying. "No one else does. They've gotten better, but if I'm not here to nag them they'll stop and go back to treating him like they did, and he'll go back to how he was and I just can't see that happen to him, Sig. He's my friend and he's healing, but I don't want him hurt again!"

"Woah, Cherry! Calm down. Take a deep breath or ten. I get what you're saying and I agree. He's been treated rotten, and you want to make sure it won't happen in the future. But why me? I'm sure there are plenty of other people you could ask."

"You're not afraid of him, though."

"What's to be afraid of?" Sig asked, apparently unaware of the irony of his statement.

Dax snorted. "Oh, I don't know, claws, fangs, horns, a temper, hair trigger reactions to thinks that frighten and-or upset him... That and he's strong enough to toss a prison transport around like it's a sack full of sand."

Then again... Sig was bigger than Jak, and if he wasn't stronger, it was only because Jak was an eco saturate and Sig wasn't. Sig had his own skills at fighting, his gun, and who knew what else. Maybe there was a good reason for the wastelander to not be all that worried about what amounted to, in the end, a frightened child. Okay, a frightened child with claws and fangs and all the previously mentioned abilities, but whatever.

"Eh." Sig said, and shrugged.

Dax raised his eyebrows. "That's it? Eh?"

"He's not scary if you know how to talk to him."

Well, true.

"Besides, you're not afraid of him either," Sig pointed out. "And you don't have any of my talents."

"Yeah, but I'm a Precursor," he replied, wondering if Sig had any mind reading skills that hadn't been mentioned yet. "Appearances are deceptive."

"Uh huh."

"No, really. I could probably toss a prison transport around too. I'd just look like someone had dumped a bucket of red paint over my head. You'd be able to use me as a stop sign. Red eco, you know?"

"You're just full of surprises, cherry."

"I try." Dax folded his hands, and looked down at them. "Please, Sig. I just need to know he'll be okay, and Torn won't argue with you. Ashelin will, but you can stare her down, I've seen it."

"So, I'm big, I'm not scared of the chili pepper, he's not scared of me, and you want someone you can trust, that about it?"

"Well, I'd switch it around. You put the most important considerations at the end, but yeah. That's about it."

Sig nodded thoughtfully. "Hard to argue with you when you put it like that. I don't like it. Spargus is full of people with an ax to grind against Haven, and they've got tempers."

"And guns," Dax added.

"Yeah, and guns. And they're not going to be all too happy with you." Sig frowned. "I don't like it at all. You're going to need a native as a guide, preferably a friend."

Dax opened his mouth to reply, and then shut it. Sig was staring off into space, and it might not be the best idea to interrupt whatever he was thinking about. Instead, he turned and went back to his packing.

"Alright," Sig said, suddenly enough that Dax jumped. "Here's the plan."

"Oh, you have a plan? Good. Do you want to share with the rest of the class?"

"Cherry, I'm doing you a favor. Drop the sarcasm."

"Sorry."

Sig smiled. "Good. Now, I'll stay here and watch the chili pepper, keep him safe. We'll get a communicator for you, program in my communicator's frequency, then you can call whenever you want and babble at the chili pepper to your heart's content."

"Think that would work?" Dax twitched his ears, and grinned. "I like that idea!"

"In return, you talk to Seem. She'll take care of you, once she gets over the shock of talking to a Precursor."

Dax's ears flattened against his head. "She's not one of those crazy people who want to have my babies, is she? 'Cause you know, that was freaky the first time one of them talked to me, and I don't want to deal with it, m'kay?"

Sig stared at him, and then quietly began to giggle. Giggle! Like a little girl! Dax leaned back, his eyes wide and his fingers digging into the bed mattress. Big, grown men weren't supposed to giggle, any more than Precursors were supposed to trip over their feet and fall to the floor.

Wait a minute...

"Sorry," Sig said, once he'd got control of himself. "Sorry. Just, the idea of Seem, asking anyone for- for that...!" It looked like the wastelander was going to lose control and start giggling again, but he mastered the temptation. "No. She's a monk."

"A monk."

The wastelander grinned, and it was an expression of pure evil. "A Precursor Monk."

Dax gulped. "Sig! That's even worse!"

* * *

"Hey, Jak. Good news, bad news time." Jak opened one eye, and grunted. Dax had to grin a little. "I'm- I've got to go away. For a little while."

At that, the eco saturate sat bolt upright, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. In a moment, shock would shift, either to terror or anger, or maybe a mix of both. People who'd never been traumatized a hundredth of what Jak had gone through didn't always react well at hearing a friend was going to go away, so why would Jak?

"I'll come back," Dax said, before Jak could get too upset. "I promise. I've never broken you a promise, have I? So yeah. I'll be back. I just have to work out an alliance with the gun-happy wastelanders who just so happen to be Haven's exiles, and then I'm good and can come home."

Jak scowled, and walked over to the bars. Dax remained where he was, leaning against them, one arm raised so he could rest his forehead against his forearm. He was done packing, and would be leaving soon. As soon as Sig came back with the news that the offer had been accepted, so maybe tomorrow, maybe a week from tomorrow.

Jak reached through the bars and took Dax's hand, the one he currently wasn't using as a headrest, and held it.

"Yeah. I'm going to miss you too. Good news, Sig'll keep you company, and he's got my new 'com frequency, and I've got his. So I can call you. Talk to you. Or, you know, Sig could call me and you can talk to me. If you want to. If you're not really a mute, like Samos said you are."

Jak snorted at Samos's name, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. He played a little with Dax's fingers, careful of his claws and the Precursor's skin.

Dax sighed. "I wish you could talk," he murmured. "It'd make things easier." It would mean that Jak had gone from being a frightened child, terrified into being quiet, to a frightened adult, who understood the need to work past the fear. Even if Jak was mute, it would be nice to have him be a frightened adult. Once he was at that point, they could work at easing and removing the fear entirely.

Then... Then Jak would be better. And he wouldn't need Dax any more, would he? Dax's breath caught in his throat. He smiled and shook his head when Jak looked up, but the moment the other man wasn't looking, he frowned.

Enough of that! He couldn't have his friend depending on him forever, it wasn't healthy! Even the apprentice Healers knew that! The dependent one would lose strength and backbone, and the one depended on would eventually be smothered. The only time there should be dominant and submissive behavior was in a working relationship, and the only time there should be near total dependence on another person was in a parent-child relationship- and the child had damn well be the dependent one!

Dax cleared his throat. Maybe this trip to Spargus was the best. Jak could get used to dealing with people other than Dax, maybe even heal, a bit, and Dax could get used to being alone again. Good for both sides. And it wasn't like Jak was being abandoned, or that they'd stop talking. That was what 'coms were for. Nothing to worry about.

"Anyways," Dax said, curling his fingers around Jak's. "You'll be fine. I've been lecturing Torn, a lot. He knows the drill, and so does Sig, and Sig's a lot more intimidating then me. You'll be fine."

Jak snorted again, and stared at Dax. Dax stared back. "You will," he affirmed. "Granted, you'll be without my charming company a bit more, but hey. I'll bring back presents."

The eco saturate sighed, and nodded. It was a victory, but Dax couldn't bring himself to be too happy about it. At least Jak knew Dax would be back. That was the important part.

* * *

Ashelin paced back and forth in front of Torn's desk, hands clasped behind her back. "Let's go over it one more time," she said. "Just to be sure."

Dax sighed, and slumped back into his patch of sunlight. "Again?" he asked, warily. "We've been over it five times." At least he was allowed to bask in the sun. Between the Dark Maker attack, Sig's increased paranoia, Jak's increased paranoia, and his own discomfort, he hadn't been outside since that disastrous trip to the bazaar. The sunlight felt good.

Though it was weird that Torn, who was Battle Commander and supposedly the most security conscientious person in the palace, who had great big windows in his office, and Ashelin... didn't. Maybe it was because that the rebellion, or so Dax had been told, had been based literally underground.

Whatever. It wasn't really important.

"Again," Ashelin said. "So? What sort of concessions can you grant to the- the Spargans?"

"Wastelanders, and what I can hand over without argument... If their families want to leave Haven to join them, they'll get help over to Spargus. If the wastelanders want to rejoin their families, we'll review their case, why they were exiled, and most likely find them innocent of charges, since Baron Praxis was an asshole. No offense."

"None taken," Ashelin murmured.

Torn cleared his throat. "And?" he asked.

"I can offer limited trade agreements, based on what I think is reasonable, but which will probably boil down to water, food, and those mechanical or electrical equipment that can't really be made without a big industrial section and a couple hundred workers. Guns, ammo, bombs, that sort of thing too. Though preferably with an agreement that they'll join Haven in smacking down the Dark Army."

Torn nodded, and looked over a few papers, the diplomatic badges that would give Dax the power to offer everything he'd listed off.

"I'll also be able to offer the Precursor Monks access to whatever they want, on an intellectual level- books or scrolls from the palace library, access to the catacombs beneath the city, plus whatever I've got stored inside my head." Just so long as they weren't freaked out by a Precursor who liked talking to faces, not the backs of heads. "I'll even translate Precursor writing for them, though that's not technically part of any trade agreements or diplomatic concessions, because you elves are absolutely useless at keeping your language the same for a century, let alone millennia."

Torn rolled his eyes and Ashelin shook her head. "Thank you, Daxter," she said. "Though I hope you will be more polite and-"

"And diplomatic?" Dax arched his eyebrows. "Sure. If I absolutely had to." People with big guns and tempers. He was going to bet he was going to have to be polite.

"Well, you haven't shown that ability yet, so forgive me for doubting."

Dax opened his mouth to reply, and was interrupted by a knock at the door. He frowned, and shot an annoyed glance over at the door in question.

"Come in," Torn called, as loudly as he could. Which wasn't much louder than his normal speaking rasp, come to think of it...

Dax made another mental note to corner Torn and talk about healing that throat again. That just did not sound healthy, or painless.

Sig ducked through the door, and shot an apologetic look over at Dax. No words needed to be said, but Sig said them anyways.

"Spargus' King has given permission for Daxter to visit on a diplomatic mission," he said. "They'll let him in whenever he shows up."

Which meant, of course, immediately.

Dax sighed, and stood up. "Well, at least I don't have to go over what I can and can't promise this king for a seventh time. I just need to say goodbye to Jak, and then I can go." He stood up, and followed Sig out of the room. At least when Sig went over the do's and don'ts on the way to Spargus, there would be useful information there!


	4. Spargus

**Spargus**

"I am not turning ottsel here, not even at night," Dax told Jak, over the static laden connection. 'Coms. Whoever had thought them up had been utterly brilliant and utterly deluded; the tiniest sand-laden breeze sent bursts of static over the tiny screen and out of the equally tiny speakers. It was better than nothing, and that was all that could be said about it. "Kleiver might eat me."

That had been a uniquely interesting introduction. Sig had accompanied him, to Spargus' gates at any rate, introducing Dax gatekeeper; Kleiver, whose first words had been about how scrawny Dax was, to how good the kanga-rat things tasted on buttered bread.

Eh, whatever.

"Other than Kleiver the eternally hungry, though, everything's cool. The introductions went well, nobody tried shooting me- well, except for that one chick who dropped her gun, but that wasn't on purpose and it completely missed me by fifty feet, so no big. I do have to go through a test before Damas will talk to me, though, so that should be fun. Proving I'm capable of running, jumping, shooting... Just like spending time with the family." Smiles weren't supposed to hurt, were they? So why did his make him feel like someone had just hit him in the heart? "So, again, no big. I'll beat their obstacle course, sweet talk Damas into an alliance, and be home before you know it, babe. I'm completely missing our dinner together."

Dax took a deep breath, and grinned at the tiny screen. For one blessed moment, there was no breeze, no static, and he could see his friend's face. Okay, it was a little blurry and all, but who cared?

"I'll be back soon, buddy. Remember, I'm bringing you presents. Just have to figure out what. I don't think you want a cactus, and they've kind of got a lot of them here." He chuckled, and twitched one ear at the crunch of a foot on sand. "Anyways, my keeper's here, and I've got to go. I'll talk to you later, okay?" Dax waved at the tiny screen, and waited until he was sure Jak had gotten the message before he closed the call. Only then did he look up.

"Do you always talk to yourself?" Seem asked, from a distance of less than a foot away.

"Yah!" Dax jerked backwards, and managed to slip- somehow, he was _sitting down_ damn it- and knock his head against a rock. "Okay, personal space, lady. Please."

"You are called Daxter?" Her tone was coolly impersonal, but she did oblige by taking a step away from him.

Dax sniffed, and gave the Monk a once over. Rubber, decided lack of skin showing, and what skin did show was hopefully painted, because it was dead white. Except on the face, where patches had been painted ottsel orange and yellow. Lovely. "Y'know, you could stand with revamping the whole monk robes things, because I'm pretty sure mixing rubber and desert heat is just asking for heat stroke."

"And who are you to define the standards of monk dress?" Her expression was something between extreme and indifferent, and if she felt any irritation at his statement, it didn't come through in her voice.

"Eh, just an interested bystander who's seen a lot of Monks and priests and nuns and I don't know what else."

"You did not answer my earlier query. Are you Daxter, generally called Dax?"

"That's me, though if you want my full name you'd better not hold your breath. It's long, I hate it- Dax works, and if you call me Daxter, I'm going to suddenly be unable to understand any language you speak."

"Dax, then." The name sounded hesitant, as if she were forcing herself to use such a familiar mode of address. "Sig asked that I meet with you, as you are unaware of the ways of Spargus."

"Yup. So, I take it you're here to lead me to the obstacle course?"

There was a tiny motion at her eyebrows that could have meant confusion. "There is no obstacle course in Spargus that is open to new petitioners. I will lead you to the arena, in time, but we still have time for further conversation."

"Okay." So he didn't have to show off his athletic skills right away. "Well, could you sit down, at least? I'm gonna get a crick in my neck soon."

There was an even more pronounced hesitation before she sat gracefully, keeping the distance between them. "I gather that you have not learned about the arena. You will be required to fight to earn the right to remain."

"Woah, fight?" Dax held up one hand, and stared at the Monk rather blankly. "Uh, no. Healer. Not a fighter. Trust me, the last couple times I tried it ended kind of badly. For me." He glanced automatically at his hand. Perfectly healed without any kind of scar, but still.

Seem also looked to his hand. She reached toward him slowly. "May I see your hand? It is the fastest way to prove your claims."

"I guess, though you won't really see anything. I heal fast." He held out his hand, and shrugged.

Fighters always had calluses, and ones very different from other varieties of work. Calluses wouldn't build in just a few skirmishes. It made sense, except he was a Precursor and the one and only time Precursors got calluses were when they were warrior class- and he needed to stop babbling, even in his own head.

The Monk's fingers brushed his- and she jerked back as if he were a flame and she were afraid of getting burned. Which was probably exactly how she felt. He probably had the strongest eco reserves of anyone she had ever met.

"You are not quite a sage."

"Well, no. Sages are- Sages are elves," he said, feeling a little helpless. There was a look in the Monk's eye, tiny but growing, that made him want to climb a cactus to get out of reach. Monks didn't do googly eyed worship, did they? "I'm kind of, well, not."

"What is your full name, Dax?"

He took a deep breath, and started talking. The most recognizable part was his first name and got weirder from there. Five minutes later, he stopped talking, and cleared his throat. "That's, uh, leaving out all of my titles. Which I've got. Some of, anyways."

Seem's eyes had widened for the full first two minutes, but when he finished she looked as indifferent as always. Very few people would see any undercurrents of surprise. "You are a Precursor," she said quite calmly. "This changes things, I believe. You are not truly from Haven, simply an emissary, and you are a healer. I will present you to the public as a sage with a gift for healing, if this is acceptable, but I will tell the king the truth."

"Oh? Well, uh. Sure. Whatever floats your boat?" Did they even have boats? "I do specialize in healing. Just, sometimes I need to use light eco. Mostly green, though."

"It will be less conspicuous, and this will be useful in dealings with most of the warriors. King Damas will hear the truth, and he may be able to meet with you more quickly. I can make no promises, but I will ask."

"You've got a direct line to the king?"

"I am the Chief Monk. I have no real influence from this title, perhaps, but I have known King Damas for years."

"Huh. Well, that's good to know. It'd be nice if I could talk to him quicker rather than later. I might not be a Havenite, but I've got friends there, y'know? I'd kind of like them not to be killed."

"You have already made the correct alliances, I believe," she said, rising. "I will present your case to King Damas, and will make note that Sig asked me to have words with you. You may wait in the audience chamber if you wish, and I will give you the news."

"And I won't have to go into this arena place? Because that really doesn't sound fun. Dark Makers- tough, but I can deal with them, since they tend to explode. People? Not so much."

"If necessary, I will claim you as a visiting sage granted amnesty by the temple, but I believe that the king will listen. Sig is his most trusted warrior."

"Well, Sig knows I'm a Precursor, too."

Seem nodded, and gestured gracefully with one hand. "If you will follow me? I will take you to the palace."

"Thanks." Dax scrambled back to his feet, and grinned. "So, anything you ever wanted to know about Precursors and didn't have the chance to ask? Since I'm here and all."

Seem folded her hands, and didn't seem too bothered by the slow pace Dax was forced to set, between his own natural 'grace' and the uneven, rock strewn ground. "We Monks are fortunate to have in our temple both an oracle, depositary of the wisdom of the Precursors, as well as Precursorian writing on the lower walls of our temples."

Dax arched one eyebrow, and wondered just what sort of 'wisdom' that oracle dispensed. 'Don't run with scissors' had been a particular favorite of his caretakers... Still was, actually. "Okay," he said.

"There has been a particular passage that has been of some dispute among the temple." Seem looked over at him, her painted face unreadable. "Perhaps you might be able to explain it."

"I'm no philosopher, but I can certainly try. At the very least, language problems won't be an issue." He tripped over a rock, and caught himself on his hands. "Is there anywhere in this city that happens to be, I don't know, flat?"

"No." Was that a smile? He wasn't sure. "The passage is as follows," she said, and rambled off in a stream of Precursorian. An odd accent, to be sure, but understandable, and as he listened he began to get a headache.

"Was the argument over translation?" he asked, and rubbed at his forehead.

"Primarily, yes."

"Okay, here's the problem. Normally, we write prophesies down on walls, and everything else gets shoved onto- well, call them scrolls just for ease of translation. You just quoted me a prophecy." He paused for a moment, and then cleared his throat. "A five hundred year old prophecy."

Seem tilted her head. "It spoke of the dark ones rising-"

"Okay, hold up. I'm not going to translate every world, because the Elders think the more elaborate the language, the more important it is. You should see their laundry instructions. In a nutshell, it was about a sudden rise in dark eco levels the world over, a threat to the stability of the world, and exactly how it could be averted. Since we're all here, it was averted, and I feel sorry for whatever sucker got dragged into playing the hero against two dark sages. It couldn't have been fun."

The Monk nodded. "So it did not refer to the day star."

Dax immediately glanced up at the sun, before looking over at the secondary light source. "Oh, that. No, nothing about the Dark Maker's ship. Damn, it's bright."

"It has been in the sky since just before they were able to manifest on our planet."

"Well, yeah, but Haven, smog, the shield wall... I just didn't really have a chance to look up at the sky without anything in the way."

Seem shook her head, and started up a long, high flight of stairs. "This is the palace," she said. "If I leave you alone to wait, will you do yourself any damage?"

"Nothing I won't be able to heal," he assured her. "And I won't break anything. Promise."

Now that was definitely a doubtful look. He smiled and tried to look trustworthy.

* * *

Sometimes figuring out protocol was a pain and a half. Dax started to bow, stopped halfway through, and stumbled over absolutely nothing, nearly falling into the pool right beside him. The throne room was impressive, for something made by a bunch of refugees in the middle of nowhere, the king was damn sure impressive, and he was pretty sure that a Precursor wasn't supposed to bow, but a diplomat was.

King Damas leaned back in his throne, and waved one hand in what Dax gratefully took as a wordless order to be casual. Well, sort of casual. Diplomat. Formality had to be observed.

"Uh, hello."

Yeah, could he drop through the floor, please? Formality his tail, he sucked at that stuff!

Damas' lips twitched, though it was impossible to say if he was trying not to smile or trying not to frown. "The Monk Seem says you are a Precursor," he said.

"Well, yeah. Healer too."

Purple eyes were level and entirely too perceptive. "You don't look like what I expected," he said. "As either a diplomat from Haven, or a Precursor."

"What were you expecting?" Dax asked, trying very hard not to fidget.

"As a diplomat- someone very confident that his way is the right and only way, who sees us of Spargus as barbarian monsters who will be useful only as cannon fodder. As a Precursor, a floating being made entirely of light."

Was it possible to find the Elders, drag them around by their ears for a couple centuries, while making them listen to Dax's growing list of complaints? "I could do that," he said. "But it gives me a headache and tends to freak random people out. The glowing part, I mean. As far as barbarian monsters go, every culture seems barbaric to every other culture. You probably wouldn't like the gritty details of Precursor life, either."

"And are you free to tell me about them?"

"Well, no, but I can tell you that sometimes it bothers me, but that could be because I'm a healer. Doesn't actually have to mean anything."

That was definitely a smile. "I will take Seem's- and Sig's- word for your species," he said. "As far as any alliance with Haven... Well, we shall have to see, won't we?"

Dax nodded, and spread his hands. "That'd be easier if I knew what you wanted," he said.

"What any man wants," Damas snapped. He stood up and walked to one of the many windows. "My people were exiled," he spat. "Thrown out into the wasteland with nothing. Their families- if they survived- were kept in Haven. Their belongings, their titles, everything remained behind. And now Haven is coming to us, to beg for our help."

"Well, I'm hoping it won't come to begging, but I'm flexible if that's what it takes," Dax said, trying to diffuse some of the tension. "Besides, no one says you have to stay allies. Take what Haven'll give you, everything you can get, and then when the Dark Army's all gone... Well, nice talking to you, so long... Get the idea?"

Damas turned away from the window, and frowned. "You are a very odd diplomat."

"I'm a Precursor first. I'm not a citizen of Haven, I technically have no rights in that city. But I've got friends there, good friends, and I'd rather not see them die, you know? And they're Haven, they're not going to abandon their city. So..." He shrugged, and looked down at his toes. "I want them to live, and for Haven to stay standing. Beyond that? I'm cool with you remaining frosty neighbors, never mind you don't get ice out here."

"We do on occasion, on the coldest nights." The king took a deep breath, and nodded once. "I will deal with you," he declared. "But first, you will be introduced to Spargus, as all newcomers are introduced."

Dax swallowed, hard. "Will I have to fight? Because like I told Seem, I can, I just... tend to be really bad at it. To be honest, I've fought on my own maybe twice in the past century, and that was all against Dark Makers and I kind of nearly died the last time. It, uh, wasn't very fun."

"Century?" Damas repeated, and shook his head. "No, you will not have to fight. Come with me."

"Yes, sir."

Well, Damas was certainly a king. He could command attention the way Torn and Ashelin didn't. Dax followed several steps behind the king as he strode through his rough palace, out the door, and down Spargus' main road. It was difficult keeping up, but at least Dax didn't fall over, and it gave him another chance to look over the architecture.

Everything was made of sand blasted sandstone, which made sense. Sandstone must have been the primary rock out in the wasteland, it was tough enough to hold up to the storms, but could still be worked without resorting to explosives or heavy machinery. It gave the city a golden cast, and each building didn't have corners so much as rounded edges that flowed into another more or less straight section. An odd look, but nice, and resembling a Precursor ship only enough to make him feel comfortable, and not feel homesick or awkward.

There were leaper lizards wandering everywhere, saddled and bridled, nibbling at the sparse greenery or running after the odd kanga rat or two. Dax really wanted to know why they were loose like that, but wasn't too sure about asking the king.

He'd ask Seem later, he decided. She was supposed to be his guide, after all, as per Sig's request. And mask-like paint or no, she was more approachable than the king.

The arena was the largest building in Spargus, even compared to the palace, he realized. It was actually part of the exterior wall, and could probably accommodate three or four times Spargus' population. He whistled at the sight of it.

"The Arena was, or so I am told, the first part of Spargus to ever be built. Spargus began with the people who first lived in the Wasteland, before it became a waste, and as its population was added to over the centuries, it became the city it is now."

"It's pretty impressive. I mean, the city is wow, but..." Dax gestured at the arena wordlessly, and Damas smiled.

"Come inside, then."

Dax nodded, and followed the king through what was pretty obviously an exclusive access hallway. It led to what he should have expected, a version of the king's throne room, complete with a fancy seat and amazing view of the arena.

The arena was a giant bowl. There must have been miles of hallways, hundreds of rooms behind and beneath the tires of seating. The actual arena space was much smaller than the rest of the building, the very bottom of the bowl a kind of hovering pad- cannibalized Precursor technology, maybe- that hovered above an even deeper lava pit, high enough that the inevitable poisonous gasses wouldn't be a problem so long as you didn't climb down and breathe deep, and the impossibly high temperature was merely uncomfortable and draining up on the platform.

"How far down is that lava tube?" Dax asked.

"Quite far. A mile, at least." Damas leaned back in his seat, and waved Dax away from the edge of the platform. "There are three people who are competing in the arena today. Two already have their first arena seal, and the third has only just turned sixteen. This will be his first arena fight."

"You're a tough lot," Dax said. "It's pretty impressive." And pretty scary. He was getting family visit flashbacks here.

"We have to be tough. The land demands much of us, for survival." Damas stood up, and moved to the front of the platform. He raised his hands, and the gathered crowd in the seats quieted.

"People of Spargus!"

Dax was happy to sit back and listen to the speech. It emphasized honor, strength, and duty to the city. It didn't even mention duty to the ruler, which was a bit of a surprise. It didn't mention obedience, either. Did that mean it was okay for a Spargus citizen to disobey a king's order, if it was good for the city as a whole? Interesting thought.

Damas ended his speech, and introduced the first challenger, one of the men who already had fought through once. He looked young, though it was impossible to make an accurate guess from so far away. Dax leaned forward, and watched his first arena fight.

By the end, he was seriously rattled. "Those people the kid fought," he said quietly. "Who were they?" More Spargans?

"Marauders," Damas replied, as the arena was cleaned up. "Those exiled from Haven who were exiled from Spargus, or those criminals who chose to be lawless. They prey upon my city and my people, and while you may think it is cruel to have them in the arena, at least it is a quick death."

As compared to what, starving to death, or dying from dehydration, or sandstorm, or metal-head attacks? Actually, now that he thought about it... "Violent, but quick," Dax agreed. "Still. It does seem kind of rough."

"No rougher than daily life is here."

Dax nodded, and continued to watch. The next two challengers came in, won- the crowds cheered louder for the kid getting his first arena seal- and then Damas stood up again.

"People of Spargus, I bring you one last person! He will not fight in the arena. He is a Sage, and probationary Monk, and further, he is a healer of no small skill. I seek to make him part of Spargus, to give him the three seals of citizenship. What say you to that?"

Dax just kept from shrieking in surprise. What? The king- but- he didn't have to do this! The people would never stand for it!

His wide-eyed gaze darted back over the gathered citizens. There was a low, murmuring drone of conversation down there while people talked to each other- and then slowly, by ones and twos, they began to stand up. And yell.

No- and _cheer_. Dax felt his breath catch in the back of his throat. They were cheering the idea. They agreed.

"Stand up," Damas urged, quietly. "And introduce yourselves to the nice people."

Daxter stood up, and moved, stumbling, over to stand next to the king. "What should I say?" he whispered, barely heard over the noise.

Damas smiled, and raised one hand for quiet. Slowly, the cheering Spargans did quiet down. Dax gulped, and looked around for inspiration.

Nothing was forthcoming. He was stuck relying on his suddenly silent brain. "Thank you," he said, stammering only a little. "I- Thank you. This is the- the first I've been made welcome in a long, long time. I'm Daxter- just Daxter. I don't..." He shook his head helplessly, and that seemed to be the signal for everyone to start cheering again.

Damas cleared his throat, and held out a palm sized disk with a button in the middle. "This citizenship seal also serves as a beacon, should you ever be out of the city and in need of assistance. Turn it on, and we will come."

Dax reached out with trembling hands, and took the small seal. This- why? It wasn't needed. He would've fought, if they'd insisted on it. He didn't need to be a citizen- look at Haven! But they were offering, and he wasn't going to turn it away...

He clung to the seal, and concentrated very hard on keeping his feet.

These warriors had given him a no-strings-attached membership to their club. He wasn't going to disappoint them by falling over and into the lava pit.

* * *

"Hey, Jak." He had his 'com in one hand, his new citizenship seal in the other. "Figured I'd update you on my progress. Not sure if it's progress for Haven or not, but they made me a full citizen." He took a shuddering breath, and then another. "I'll have to ask the king if it'd be okay if you came out and joined me. What do you say, pal- once the war ends, you can retire. These people are big on the fighting, not so big on the cages... I think you'd like it."

He lowered the 'com slightly, and stared out over the night-dark ocean. And breathed. After he'd gathered his composure, he raised the 'com again and smiled at Jak. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, big guy. Be nice to Sig, okay? I asked, we're not being given another of 'im."

* * *

Mornings in the Wasteland were chill, but it didn't last long once the sun was up. And vegetarian options were few and far between. Fortunately, Dax didn't have a problem with fish.

"Is it only personal preference? Or is it something else, some Precursorian code?" Seem asked, nibbling at her own meal. Cacti pears, strips of leaper lizard meat, and flat bread that could be wrapped around everything else. Dax had everything but the leaper lizard meat, but he did have a full roasted fish.

"I don't eat anything I can talk to," he replied. "Fish are okay, most birds are actually okay, but the lizards are smart enough that I can get across simple concepts." She stared at him, and he hunched his shoulders. "Yeah, I know I'm weird. What's with the wandering lizards, anyways?"

"They belong to the city, not to one individual. The vehicles, the lizards, and the food and water supplies- all belongs to the city, and can be borrowed or taken by individuals."

"Huh. Interesting concept."

"Of course, some people do develop a fondness for a certain lizard or prefer driving a particular vehicle, but that rarely causes conflict."

"Huh," Dax repeated. He nibbled at his fish. "Alright, tell me about Spargus. Everything I wanted to know but didn't know enough to ask."

Seem smiled. "To start, only half of Spargus' population is made up of Haven's exiles. The other half were born here, lived here all their lives, and wouldn't know any other way of being. Children can choose to join the Temple when they turn sixteen, or take the first arena challenge. If a child is orphaned, they are always sent to the temple, but when they turn sixteen they can challenge that choice and, should they choose, fight in the arena when they turn eighteen."

"Giving them time to learn weapon skills. Nice set up."

"It works for us. There are, of course, more men than women, simply because more men are exiled from Haven than women. I imagine that if you could guarantee the men's families could join them should they so choose, it would be a great incentive."

Dax chuckled. "Seem, I'm not looking for incentives here, I just want to understand this place. I got made a full citizen, after all. It's kind of... big."

"It is. Monks are made full citizens as well when we finish our time as acolytes, and we are expected to act as simple healers as well. We do have some skills with eco, generally, which is what leads us to life in the Temple in the first place, but our strongest channeler is not as strong as the king, and you..." Her eyes shone with the slightest touch of hero worship. "You are beyond us."

"Well, it comes with the species," he mumbled, the tips of his ears turning red. "I actually can't sense eco in people. It's like standing in the middle of a vent, all the time, unless I drain my reserves down so low that I'm almost normal. But if I do that, I tend to be falling down unconscious and go into shock, which could be lethal if not taken care of, so..." He shrugged. "Anyways. You were saying?"

Seem finished her meal, and brushed off her hands. "Everyone in Spargus has their place," she said. "Primarily, they are warriors, and that is needful, especially in these times. However, they will also be artisans, builders, mechanics. There are farmers, who tend what little grows in the sand, and herders, who are in charge of the leaper lizards. The Monks are healers and scholars; there are home makers, those who cook food in return for payment, bars..."

"It's pretty much a city," Dax summed up. "Alright, I get that."

Seem nodded, and tucked one leg up under her. "However, there is much we cannot do for ourselves. Yakkow do not live in the wasteland, so there are no leathers, no yakkow wool, no beef or milk. There are no metals that can be taken from the sands, and there are not a great many people who can turn their hands only to manufacture of goods. All of our ammunition is bought from Haven through our agents there, as is our guns, the parts for our vehicles, panes of glass and sheets of metal."

"So what do you have?"

"Precursor artifacts. They are brought to the Temple, where we study them and may, for a high fee, sell them to interested parties in Haven. The rich, mainly. There is some social cachet, or so I am told, for having Precursor artifacts on display in one's house."

"No wonder they were so interested in my things," Dax said wryly. "Anything else?"

Seem shrugged. "The people of Haven, or those interested in such things, pay highly for the services of metal-head hunters. I am told that skull gems bring in many credits, and that some people will even pay for entire bodies. The metal-head hunters are legendary in Haven, though they do not do all the work on their own. When our parties go out to search for artifacts in the winds before the storms, or in the calm afterwards, they also run into metal-heads, and kill them for the gems."

"And for safety, but I get it. The gems are city property too?"

"They are. The agents in Haven sell the gems for the city, to buy what is needed. We also grow incense in the temple, and some medicines that are valued highly in Haven, and we again sell those through our agents. All funds belong to the city, and if a person wishes to gather a great number of belongings, such procurement is done through trade and barter within the city, or by arranging to do a service for the city, such as going out to search for those artifacts. It is dangerous, because the best time is before the storm, and if you are trapped outside, the winds and blowing sand can strip the flesh from your bones in minutes."

"Sounds like fun." Dax shivered. "So, okay. It's a nice setup. And I guess you're guaranteed not to have slackers, at least not for long. Harsh life, but fair."

"Yes. One thing more, you should know," Seem said, her pale red eyes suddenly serious. "Something that may be so alien even to a Precursor that you would not see it, or would ignore it if you noticed. The king is not the highest ruler in the city."

What? "Who is, then?"

"The majority rules in Spargus. The king is our leader, yes, but if the majority feels he is no longer leading us well, he can be removed, and a new leader put in our place. The king stands as the deciding vote when the city is locked and cannot decide, and he presides over the arena- but many a king has been removed and thrown out to the sands before this. Damas is a good king. He has been ruling for nearly five years now, and everyone agrees he is a good ruler."

Dax nodded, and closed his eyes. "You know, that does sound kind of crazy, that a king can be removed like that," he murmured. "But now I know. I'll keep it in mind."

"Good. And if you will take a word of advice?" Seem asked.

"Shoot."

"I do not have a gun, but I believe I take your meaning. The people of Haven doubtless believe that your task is to convince the king to an alliance. It is not. Your task is to convince the people of Spargus. If the king disagrees, but the rest of the people agree, he will cement the alliance with Haven."

"Wow."

"I thought you would like to know."

"Yeah."

Dax finished his food, and stared out over the ocean. "I'll have to talk to him, I guess," he said. "Damas might not be the highest authority, but he'll know what his people will want, right?"

"Correct."

"Okay then." Dax stood up, and brushed off his pants. "I'll talk with Damas, find out what the people want the most, then I'd like to see your temple. I'll talk with Haven, we'll work up an offer, see what everyone says, and then go back to the drawing board for the parts that don't fit."

"It sounds like a workable plan," Seem agreed. "Personally, I understand that Haven has archives, and catacombs beneath the city. I would like to see those archives, and those catacombs."

"I'll see what I can do," Dax promised. "There's a lot that I'd like to do, too, but just haven't had time for."

"I can be patient." Seem stood up, and looked at him. "I will be at my temple. Any of the men can take you there. They will find it pleasant, for we are generous with our visitors."

"In other words, you feed them, water them, and keep them from touching anything important." Seem's chuckle was all the reward he needed. "Thanks. I'll see you later today, then."

Dax headed down through the city, walking close to one wall. Even there, in the few shadows, the people noticed him, and nodded in greeting. He nodded back, more than a little bemused. So, he was welcome here. They had healers, but no one who specialized in it, so... Well, elfin warriors couldn't heal themselves with eco all that quickly, could they? A trained healer could be the difference between life, maiming, and death. So okay, it made sense that the first healer to wander their way was welcomed with open arms.

He still would have fought, though. He hadn't gone around _asking_ for special treatment.

Maybe that was why he'd gotten it.

Dax looked up, and saw the palace. And of course he only realized now that he didn't have an appointment. Did you need one to talk to Spargus' king? You certainly did when dealing with Haven's leaders. Well, he'd try to see Damas, and if he couldn't see the guy right now, he could always leave a message, couldn't he?

Right. That made sense.

Time to go see just how welcome he really was.

The transition from the bright outside to the dark inside took a moment to adjust to. It was a shorter moment for Dax than for elves in a similar situation, but that was only because he'd closed his eyes just before stepping through the door. It helped, a very little bit, and was better than nothing.

The palace seemed almost empty. Like he'd told Seem, he couldn't really _sense_ things, people or eco both. But his hearing was better than an elf's, and he couldn't hear any footsteps, or the sounds of people coughing quietly, or breathing loudly, or talking to each other. Up above he could hear the floor creaking, but whether that was because someone was up there or because it was just the kind of noise a building made during the day.

He walked through the halls, and entered Damas' throne room after a quiet knock. He couldn't hear anything other than the sound of the fountains and the quiet creak of wood. A quick look around told him everything he needed to know; the room was empty, and he had no idea where Damas might have been.

Dax sighed, and moved over next to the fountains. Of all the places in Spargus, right next to the fountains was the only place the air was marginally cool and anything other than bone dry. The shore was pleasant enough, but the 'beach' happened to be vertical cliffs and it didn't so much as cool the air down as ease a little of the dryness out of the heat.

Alright, so Damas wasn't here and the palace seemed to be empty of everything except the furniture and the kanga-rats in the walls. What now? He could head to the Temple, take a look and see what had shaped this world's belief in the Precursors, or he could hang around in the empty room waiting, like a useless little kid-

The door opened behind him, and when he turned to look, Damas walked in. Kleiver followed.

_Well, that actually works out,_ Dax thought, and smiled at both men. "Just the people I was hoping to talk to," he said. The king, and his second in command, if he had judged Kleiver correctly.

"Now what would a scrawny little toothpick like you want to talk to great men like us about?" Kleiver asked, though it didn't sound hostile. Just- testing, the way warriors always tested each other, gently pushing to see if someone would give, or push back. Or punch back, in a few cases.

Damas didn't say anything, but he did move to his throne and nod at Dax. How very welcoming.

He knew he was being unfair. The king was a busy man, and obviously had quite a few things on his plate each day. Still, being made a full citizen had knocked him off balance, he was still off balance, and it was all Damas' fault. If the guy had just done the normal, expected thing and told everyone Dax was a visitor, wasn't going to be a citizen ever, or had thrown Dax into the arena... But no, he had to go and give Dax a citizen's seal.

"I was hoping the great men would make time in their day for the diplomat," he said. He glanced over at Damas. "Nice touch with the citizenship seal, by the way. I'm hardly going to make tough deals against my own adoptive city, now am I?"

Damas smiled, very slightly, and Dax was hit with a vague sense of recognition. He'd seen that smile before, just not on Damas' face. Or, not exactly Damas' face- a relative's? He'd never been to this planet before, how could he have known one of the king's ancestors?

"It was the right thing to do," Damas said quietly. "If a man doesn't do the right thing, he shouldn't be able to meet his own gaze in a mirror."

"Deep," Dax decided. "Still, I am a diplomat from Haven, and I've got a sense of duty, even if I try to hide it. I have to talk to you about an alliance. Even if you say no."

"We should say no," Kleiver grumbled. "Those sludge sucking bastards."

"Kleiver," Damas said. One word, and the other man fell silent. "We have time now."

"Great. Well, Seem gave me a brief overview of Spargus life. What's the most important thing you- your people, I mean- could get out of Haven? Remember, they're desperate for help, and Sig's been singing your fighting praises." Dax arched one eyebrow. "And since you are my adoptive leader and all, I'm going to suggest you grab as much as you can."

Damas chuckled, but Kleiver burst into outright laughter. "For a toothpick, you're not that bad," Kleiver said.

"I've got to have something going for me," Dax pointed out.

Damas cleared his throat, and glanced at Kleiver. "Those of us who came from Haven lost our families when we were exiled," he said. "If those same families were told the truth, that we were still alive, and given the option- not forced- to come join us, after having been made fully aware of the difficulties of life in the Wasteland..."

"It'd be a really big, shiny make-nice offer that might get Haven a few people willing to fight?" Dax asked.

"About. But, and here's the thing." Kleiver pointed one finger at Dax. "_If_ we fought for them, we'd have to be allowed inside Haven. Access to amenities. Be seen by healers, and maybe, if those arseholes are smart, have our cases reviewed. Most of us got exiled by Praxis."

"I haven't heard anything good about him," Dax said, one hand clenching into a fist. "If he were still alive- well, he's not."

"What, the healer wants to hurt someone?" The man sneered.

"Actually, yes. He hurt my friend. Three years of torture... Well, Jak's still healing."

Damas raised his eyebrows. "Does he fight?"

Was Dax reading the right things in that question? He hoped so. "Oh, boy, does he," he said, and sighed. "He's just not good with people yet. Or, well, sleeping outside of a cage." Both of the men looked surprised, so Dax hurried to explain. "If he's inside a cage, the bad people can't get in and hurt him when he sleeps. If he's _outside_, well... So far, it's just been easier, and I'm trying to convince him that since he's the biggest, baddest thing on two legs, no one's going to try to hurt him. It's slow going."

"It would not be the first time we had taken in someone who had been hurt by Praxis," Damas said. He clenched his jaw, and then sighed. "But yes, having our cases reviewed would be a good step. I doubt anyone would want to return to Haven, after what happened-"

"And considering they're currently under siege by those puppies Havenites think are dangerous," Kleiver put in.

"-but it would be good to be able to go into the city on our own, make our own trades, not just through our agents."

Dax studied the king, and tugged on one ear. "Why do I have the feeling you wouldn't be going back for anything if you didn't absolutely, positively have to?" he asked.

Damas chuckled, but there was no humor. "My family is dead," he said. "Praxis made sure of that before I was thrown out."

"Oh. I know it's not enough, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Damas bowed his head. "So am I."

From that angle, Dax was able to see that the crown wasn't actually imbedded in Damas' skull, but had been cunningly wrought to look as if it had been. At least that was one less thing to worry about. It distracted him from his momentary worry- Damas had no family to be bribed with, so he might not consider making that alliance- but no, Damas would do what needed to be done for the people, not himself. Dax would just have to figure out something that was just for the king.

Kleiver cleared his throat, breaking the somewhat awkward silence. "Now, how many concessions are they willing to make for trade?" he asked.

Dax relaxed into the talk, bantering mostly with Kleiver about possible trade details. Damas added the odd comment, but seemed content to let his second in command do most of the talking. After a few minutes, Dax thought he knew why. Kleiver was _good_, at least when it came to trade negotiation, and it was always better to let the expert lead the way. Damas was probably good at such negotiations too, but not as good as Kleiver.

It was good to know, and before Dax realized it, two hours had passed and they had actually worked out a few agreements that might be worth allying Spargus and Haven, if only for the duration of the War.

Kleiver left after a glance out through the window, saying something about 'the puppies' returning from 'their milk run', which Dax decided didn't really interest him all that much. If he needed to know, they'd tell him.

Damas leaned back in his throne and sighed. "It seems the people want an alliance," he said, and Dax shrugged one shoulder.

"Well, there are advantages," he pointed out. "Besides that, I just bet there are plenty of men here who'd like a lady for themselves, and to be perfectly honest, the only place they'll find them would be in Haven. Go save the city, get a few minor scars to boast about heroic feats with, and the ladies will be falling all over them."

"True," Damas agreed. "Is there anything else you wanted?"

If that was supposed to be a dismissal, Dax wasn't inclined to take it as one. "Just curious about something. I know what the people as a whole want, but what do _you_ want?"

Damas very audibly had his breath catch in his throat. "_What_?"

Dax stood up, and lifted his chin. "What do you want? As a man, not a king."

The man, and not the king, closed his eyes and turned his head away. "What I want is gone," he said, his voice harsh and his hands clenched, white knuckled, on the arms of his throne. "My wife is dead and my son- I have to hope, for his sake, that he is dead. I know Haven. I know what would befall a child in that place, alone."

And that hurt, like a knife stabbed between ribs and twisted. Dax nodded, and took a step closer. "But you also hope that he's not dead, and that he's- safe, unharmed. Right?"

Damas let out a shuddering breath. "Yes."

"Sig's looking for him, isn't he?" Damas turned to look at him so quickly, Dax was surprised not to hear a sound like a whip snapping. "I guessed. A few things he'd said." That, and Damas' reaction was all the confirmation he needed. "I could help. Or the guard could- they know everywhere in Haven. Even one kid couldn't be hidden forever."

"I wouldn't want him to live, only to suffer," Damas growled. He lunged off the throne and strode over to the nearest window. "Do you know what happens to children there? If there are no parents, no families to care? Praxis told me my boy had been dumped in the slums. There are no orphanages there."

"I can guess," Dax said softly. "And... It's not much, but I'd be able to tell you if he's alive or not." Damas was silent- completely silent, so that he couldn't have been breathing, either. "I could even tell if your wife-"

"She's dead," Damas said flatly. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a worn, much folded photograph. He looked at it, caressed it with his thumb, and then tucked it back into his pocket. "Praxis killed her right in front of me."

Dax ignored the man's trembling voice, as he ignored the tears standing in Damas' eyes. "I'm sorry. But your son... All I would need is some of your hair, or a little blood. And-" the boy's name was probably too painful to say, if Dax was reading that welter of emotions correctly. "And your family name."

Damas looked up, and nodded. "What do you need me to do?" he asked.

"Well, first, I think we should go to whatever passes for a kitchen in this place. We'll need a small bowl, a knife, a candle, and of course, a table to put it all on." Dax grinned, and gestured at the door. "Why don't you lead?"

The kitchen was just as empty as the rest of the palace, which didn't seem to surprise Damas much. He got out Dax's required tools, even as the Precursor set everything up and mentally reviewed the steps of the simple ritual. It didn't require a great deal of eco to do it, either, and the results were never ambiguous.

Just what Damas needed.

Once everything had been set up, the king sacrificed some blood, slicing gently across his palm with the knife. Dax healed the cut once there was enough blood pooled in the bottom of the bowl, and then guided the king's hands to the bowl's sides, holding it up above the as yet unlit candle.

"Alright," he said, and leaned back in his seat. "It's going to be pretty clear from everyone's point of view. If your son's alive and well, nothing will happen to the blood in the bowl. It'll stay red and liquid and looking pretty much exactly like it does right now. If he's hurt or in danger, the blood will boil, maybe go black if it's bad. If he's dead, it'll turn to ash without burning."

Damas raised his eyebrows, but nodded. "Clear enough," he said, his voice raspy.

"Right." Dax lit the candle with a match, and held his hands over the bowl. "Reveal the truth to our eyes," he said, and gave the mental twist that set the eco in the proper form. "Damas, repeat what I just said, but give your family name."

"Reveal the truth to our eyes," Damas said, "of the heir to the House of Mar."

The what? Dax looked sharply at the king, but didn't say anything as the eco moved, and settled. The candle flared, burning strongly enough that the flame licked briefly at the bottom of the bowl, before going back to normal.

"Okay, it's done. Let's see now..." Damas put the bowl down, and they both stared at the blood.

Dax felt his chest clench, and swallowed, hard. Damas looked up, tears shimmering in his eyes.

"The blood turned black," the king whispered.

"N-no. It- look. It's still blood, but- it's shining like dark eco." Dax pointed to the glints of pink and green rippling through the black. After a minute, the dark eco lights faded, and the blood turned red again. "Well, that was new."

"Do you know what it means?" Damas asked, probably more harshly than he'd intended.

"Your son is alive, and in danger, but the blood went back to normal after showing... that... so he's not in danger _right now_." Dax picked up the bowl and moved over to the sink. Someone would have to clean it out, or people would wonder just what the heck was going on. "He's alive. He's in Haven. And we'll find them, Damas. We'll find him and bring him home."

Dax then ran some precious water into the sink and pretended not to hear Damas' quiet sob. Somehow, he had the feeling that the alliance with Haven would be pushed through quicker now.

* * *

"You're sure?" Ashelin asked, her voice distorted by static. "His name is Damas?"

"That means something to you?" The Monks- or novices, rather- working in the garden were polite enough to ignore the strange, eco-strong man their leader had deposited in a patch of shade and left. It meant he actually had something a little like privacy to have a conversation with Haven's esteemed leaders.

But not his leaders. Not in the past, not now, and not in the future. The Wasteland was starting to grow on him.

"He was Haven's king, before Praxis took over," Ashelin said. "I thought he'd been killed, not exiled."

"His wife was, and his kid dropped off in the slums to- well, whatever happens to kids in the slums." Going by Ashelin's wince- at least, he thought it was a wince- nothing good. "He got beaten up and tossed out to die in the sand, but they found him, he ended up leading the place. No idea how quickly, but my source actually smiled when I asked."

"This changes a great deal," Torn said, off screen but still audible. "Haven's king... is alive."

And had the right to come back and take over the city. Dax doubted it would happen, considering how devoted Damas was to Spargus, but that could have been because he'd thought his son was dead. Now that he knew the kid was alive...

"That's neither here nor there," he said. "The point is, I've given you what Spargus wants, and now you know what Damas wants. What are you going to do about it?"

Ashelin looked off screen, and then back at Dax. "We'll start search parties, put up posters, give the information to the Guard; they can start a missing person's report-"

"I might be in the middle of the Wasteland but I can still tell when you're bullshitting someone," Dax snapped. "The kid would be five, six years old now. He's alive, and he's fine. And you're hiding something. Start talking."

"Or?"

Dax smiled. "Or I'll make a special trip back to Haven to harass you in person. What do you know?" Not that it would make her tell, but it gave him time to think of something special and nasty.

The image in the 'com screen jerked, was filled with static, and then cleared to the sight of Torn's unlovely face. "You're not going to like it," he warned. Apparently threats wouldn't be needed after all.

"I already don't like it, and the stalling is just making me like it less and less."

Torn grimaced. "The Rebellion found the child," he said. "We saved him from the unsavory elements of the city. He was raised by us, and... Did Samos tell you about...?"

"About the time travel. Yes." Dax tilted his head, and then groaned. "Oh, no. Don't tell me. Samos was the kid's caretaker."

"Yes. He was. You have to understand. We knew the child was Damas', that he was the heir to the city. And we also knew that there was no way for him to grow up safely in Haven."

"But the past was a lot safer, wasn't it?" Dax sneered, and barked out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, brilliant idea, because when he came back Praxis got... him... Jak!"

There was an odd roaring in his ears. After way too many minutes, he realized it was the sound of blood rushing through his veins, and it was so loud because he'd just suffered a very strong shock. Right. Damas was the former king of Haven, he had a son, that son had been rescued by the rebellion when Praxis kicked Damas out and took over Haven, the son was raised by the rebellion's green sage, and then taken back into the past to grow up safely, and then brought back to the proper time only to be grabbed by Praxis, tortured with dark eco, until he was the man Dax knew and cared for.

Jak.

Jak Mar.

Oh, holy Precursor crap.

Dax blinked hard, and snatched the 'com back up from the dirt where he'd dropped it. "When I get back there, you'd better have a damn good explanation for Damas about how you treated his son!" he snapped, holding the 'com so tightly the plastic casing cracked. "Expect us there this evening!"


	5. Returns

**Returns**

It had been five years, nearly six, since he had last walked the halls of his home. Yet there was no time to catalogue the changes Praxis had made, and mourn; the Precursor Healer was practically running, and unless Damas wanted to be left behind, he had to stretch his legs to keep up. He knew these halls, yes, but not where his son was being kept.

His son. An insane story he never would have believed if not for the Precursor's spell and words. His initial rage had been worn down in the transport, leaving him with a dark and brooding fury. Haven's leaders would pay, and pay dearly. They had _known_, and they had done _nothing_.

"Here," Dax said, and slammed the door open. He paused in the doorway, and then cursed, the alien language strange to Damas' ears. "Damn it, where is he?"

Damas looked past the Precursor's gravity defying hairstyle, and glowered at the sight of metal bars cutting the room in half. A simple, plain room, with walls, floor, and ceiling made of a pale beige stone that echoed the light gold of Spargus. The room had been made into a cage, with nothing more than a thin pallet of blankets pretending to be a bed for furniture.

It was both more, and less, than what he had been expecting. Dax's tales had been of a young man tortured past rationality, slowly healing, prone to the occasional panic attack where he resorted to weapons of claws and dark eco. This room was clean, with several large windows to let in a great deal of light, but he had expected... What? Dax had also mentioned fighting with Haven's leaders, Commander Torn and Baroness Ashelin, for everything Jak had gotten. They would not give 'the dark eco freak' much of anything, let alone a proper bed.

"You were expecting him to be here," Damas said, moving aside when Dax spun around.

"Yeah, I was. There wasn't any fighting outside that I could sense or see, so he shouldn't be outside. And I doubt Ashelin would approve day trips anywhere, not that he'd be able to go places without panicking." The Precursor slammed one fist into the wall next to him, and hissed. "Did they move him?"

"Sig would know."

Dax's ears twitched upwards. "Hey, yeah. One moment, I'll get him on the 'com." He dug into his pockets, and pulled out a cracked 'com unit, one of the older models. In seconds, he had dialed in Sig's frequency, and was waiting for a response.

The response came, not from the 'com, which delivered only static. No, Damas and Dax both lifted their heads and pricked their ears at the sudden, rising screech echoing down the hall.

"I think I know where Jak is now," Dax quipped, and started running. He would have fallen in the first five steps if Damas hadn't caught his elbow and held him up. _Now_ Damas knew where to go, and led the way. Praxis had not changed the architecture, only the decoration.

He went, not for the main entrance, but to one of the smaller side entrances. There was already a small group gathered when he stepped into the antechamber; he reconized Torn from the young man's service in the city guard, and Ashelin as Praxis' daughter, though she had grown somewhat from the last time they had met. Sig, of course, he knew.

It was the fourth person, the young man that had the touch of the familiar about him, that he stared at.

The young man could only be Jak. The description was right; bleached white hair with dark roots, horns curving up from that wild, only half-tamed mane. Black eyes, seeming all pupil, untouched by any color. Pale skin, lips peeled back from sharp fangs, throat flexing with each snarl and shriek Jak voiced. Good clothing, of a sturdy enough fabric that could take heavy use, and the right shade of blue to keep Jak from looking like a ghost. Dark eco sparked from his hands, hitting everything near him; the wall, the floor, and Sig.

Damas realized he had stopped breathing only when his chest began to hurt. He breathed deeply, and walked slowly into the room, his boot heels thumping against the flagstones. The sound certainly got their attention. Once he had reached Sig's side, just far enough away that, should anyone make the exceedingly foolish mistake of attacking them, they wouldn't get in each other's way, he grounded the butt of his gun on the floor and gave the two Haven leaders a dark look.

"So," he said, and left it at that. Jak's snarls were the only sounds that broke the quiet, that and the snap-crack of the dark eco sparks.

He had to give the baroness credit; she met his eyes squarely, without any attempt to look away. Torn did look away, but Damas had expected no less. The commander was an honorable man in most ways, and guilt was an effective goad against such men. Torn's treatment of Jak certainly was less than honorable, and facing Jak's father apparently more than the commander could handle.

Sig cleared his throat, breaking the quiet standoff. "Your majesty," he said, and bowed his head respectfully. "I'll just take Jak back to his room. Today's been a bit more exciting than I'd intended."

Damas glanced at Jak again, and nodded. "Do so," he commanded, and glanced at the door- and froze.

Dax hadn't followed him into the antechamber. He stood in the doorway, fists clenched and every muscle as tense as wires. The furious rictus his face had frozen into should have been humorous, on his face.

It wasn't.

It was the glowing eyes that did it, Damas thought, frozen where he stood. The Precursor's attention wasn't on _him_, and he was quite happy to keep it that way.

"Torn. Ashelin." The words sent a chill down Damas' spine, and when the Precursor walked forward, he wanted to back away. Yet his boots seemed to have been nailed to the floor. At least the Precursor was no longer looking even vaguely in his direction, and he was able to breathe again.

Freed from the spell, Damas glanced back to see how Sig and Jak were dealing with the situation. Sig looked rattled, as though he was fighting against a severe shock, but Jak was the surprising one. The young man looked delighted at the sight of the Precursor, ears up and twitching faintly, eyes wide, the corners of his lips curling into a warm smile.

Well. The Wastelander king looked at Torn and Ashelin, and was satisfied for the moment with their reactions. They both looked as he had felt, as though they wanted to run as far away and as fast as they could- and couldn't get their bodies to respond.

"What is going on?" The Precursor asked, and absently gestured with one hand. The remaining dark eco sparks hesitated in midair a moment, and then shot towards him almost faster than Damas could see. They hit his palm, and sank into flesh.

The Precursor's eyes flickered, dark lightning shrouding light for the briefest of moments, before steadying. "Well?"

Oddly enough, between his sudden fear of the Precursor, his pride in Sig, his delight at seeing his son's tormenters brought low, and the unnamed welter of emotion at seeing his Son... Damas found himself smirking.

They had, after all, brought this down upon themselves.

* * *

Dax held onto his anger with a grip that was slipping more with every word Ashelin said. His blood boiled, and it was difficult to hear her over the pounding in his ears.

"Enough," he finally snapped, cutting her off mid-word in a rant about public safety and how _dangerous_ Jak was. Never mind that Jak was dangerous only to people who threatened him first. Sure, he went after metal-heads and Dark Makers without provocation, but people were different. "You're only upset Jak was out of your control for the afternoon, and now Damas is here. Which has got to royally piss you off, considering what your father did."

Low blow, but honest. He saw her flinch, very slightly, from behind the haze of light eco.

He heard boot steps approaching from behind, and recognized Damas before the man came just into sight. "We will be talking," Damas said, slowly and clearly, "about just what you did to my son."

Torn hunched his shoulders, and muttered something that sounded very much like 'yes, sir.' Ashelin, however, showed a bit more stubbornness, or lack of foresight. She lifted her head and matched gazes with Haven's former king.

"I didn't do anything," she began.

Damas slashed his hand through the air. "No?" He smiled, and there was nothing kind in his expression. "Really. We shall have to see." He lifted his chin. "Dismissed," he snapped, and the two former soldiers reacted automatically, snapping to attention. There was some awkwardness when they got control over their reactions again, and they left rather than continue to face both Precursor and king at the same time.

Dax managed to wrestle down his emotions and his eco once they were out of sight, and breathed out one long breath. "Well," he said, and raked his fingers back through his hair. Sparks, blue and black, crackled over his fingers before sinking in through his skin. "That could have gone a lot better."

"Mm. So. This is Jak." Damas turned away, towards Jak, and smiled very faintly. "A fine young man."

He was talking about his son. Damas would have called Jak a fine young man if he'd seen him back when Dax had first met him, terrified of everything and willing to kill anyone who came close enough. Dax knew that. So why did those words make his lips tremble and eyes burn? He cleared his throat and blinked several times, hard, before he did something stupid, like hug Spargus' king.

"He is. C'mon, Jak. Let's go back to your room, before those idiots decide to pull an encore of stupid." He smiled, and raised his eyebrows.

Sig ended up leading the way, Jak and Dax walking just behind him, with Damas bringing up the rear. It gave Dax a good view of Sig's back, where the armor looked singed, the cloth looked burned, and the skin underneath looked like it needed healing, urgently.

That was the next step, Dax decided. Once they'd reached the security of Jak's room, he'd take a moment, heal Sig, and then take care of Jak. He doubted the saturate would begrudge Sig a moment's attention. It wasn't like dark burns were difficult to take care of, after all.

No one dared interrupt their little parade, and Dax wasn't the only one who breathed a sigh of relief when the door was closed. Jak moved to the back of the room, and leaned against the wall. Dax smiled at him, and then turned to Sig.

"Armor, shirt, off," he said. "I need to get at those burns now rather than later."

Sig stared at him, looking more than a little wild eyed. "Cherry, what the hell?" he snapped. "You just- thunder and smiting to healing scratches?"

Dax sighed, and rubbed at his forehead. "I wasn't going to smite anyone," he said. "Look, you'll feel better once your back's healed, and then we can go over just how much trouble Haven's landed in. Please?"

"You're a weird one, cherry."

"I kind of figured. Armor? Shirt?"

"Yeah, yeah." Sig stripped to the waist, wincing occasionally- though, Dax noted, most of those winces were for the charred patches on his armor.

Dax stepped around so he could look at Sig's back, and sighed. What was it with warrior types and scars? Yes, they got injured, but a little green eco went a long way. Scars weren't supposed to be collector's items!

At least Sig's collection all seemed to be of claw marks, or bite marks, and not elf made. Dax sighed, and called light eco to his fingertips, chasing the dark eco sparks out of Sig's system. The sparks lingered on his fingertips when he wiped them away, before they sank through the skin and out of sight. Only after the pale burns were all gone did he let go of the light eco and step back.

"Okay, you're good. Damas, c'mere, I'll introduce you to Jak." He walked into the cage, and raised his eyebrows at the king. Who wasn't moving, but was staring at something just over Dax's shoulder- and smiling?

He had no other warning than that. Large hands grabbed his shoulders and he was shoved down onto the ground.

It was a gentle landing, as such things went. He didn't even bruise his knees or palms where they met the floor. Almost at the same moment, he was flipped over onto his back and pinned there, unable to move, while Jak stared down at him.

"Hey, you big lug, let me up!" Dax snapped, and tugged at his friend's wrists. He could have easily pulled Jak off and thrown him across the room- or, alright, not easily, but it wouldn't have been too much of a struggle- but he didn't. Why should he? Jak was his friend. Whatever Jak's intention, it wasn't going to be _bad_.

Jak snarled, but not angrily. He tightened his grip slightly on Dax's shoulders, and pulled him up into a sitting position.

Dax snorted, and slapped one hand against Jak's chest, wriggling and twisting free. Jak, obviously, let him pull away just long enough, then snaked one arm out and pulled Dax back. They repeated the pretend struggle several times, and then Jak apparently decided he no longer wanted to play. He pulled Dax down and back, and wrapped both arms around Dax's chest and shoulders.

"H-hey! That tickles, you jerk! Lemme up!"

Jak snorted, and rubbed his short goatee against Dax's neck again, before burying his nose in red and orange hair. Dax tried to elbow his friend, but the angle was all wrong, as usual, and groaned. "Someone, help, get him off me," he called, eyeing Sig and Damas. "C'mon, don't you have any mercy? Tickling bad!"

Sig shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. No help there. Damas had the oddest look on his face- well, Dax would remind the king that his son _was_ healing and would be better in a few days, even. He wouldn't always be cuddly-puppy-Jak.

He felt a tug on his hair, and grunted. "Jak, that's my hair! No biting the hair!"

Jak growled, and flexed his claws against Dax's ribs and arm. Then he growled again, except it was an odd sort of growl. Dax's ear twitched, and he tried to turn around and look his friend in the eye, except he was rather effectively pinned and those twitching claws were tickling, damn it.

"Stay," Jak growled, with a voice that sounded like he'd been smoking tar-sticks for thirty odd years, like he'd been chewing rocks and swallowing them, like he'd broken his voice several times over, actually- which he kind of had, if the reports were right.

This time Dax did manage to twist around, aware, vaguely, that Sig and Damas were both looking as surprised as their faces could get; not very, honestly.

"Jak?" he whispered. "Did you just talk?"

Jak snorted, and leveled a look at his captive Precursor that said, very clearly, that of course he had talked, and he, Dax, had better reply _properly_. Without any fuss about what was clearly a normal occurrence; after all, other people talked all the time, didn't they?

Dax blushed and cleared his throat. "Ah, uh, yeah. Right. Yeah, sure, Jak, I'll stay with you. Next time I go to Spargus, you'll come with me, how's that?"

Jak's fangs flashed in a surprisingly sweet smile, his grip on Dax loosening slightly. Dax smiled back, and leaned against Jak's shoulder a little more.

Well, this was nice. Talking was a very good step, though obviously there was something that needed healing in Jak's throat. No big, not for him.

...Why was Jak frowning?

Dax started to pull back, mouth open to ask a question, when Jak struck.

Sharp fangs sank into the muscle joining neck to shoulder, and Dax squealed with the shock. It hurt, damn it! "Jak!" he snapped, not yet tugging at that fanged grip, but more than willing to start. "What the _hell_?"

Jak pulled his teeth out of Dax's shoulder, and snarled. Then he shoved Dax away onto the floor, stood up and crossed his arms. And very deliberately turned his back on Dax.

Dax muttered a Precursorian curse and healed the bite with a spark of eco and brush of fingers. "Have you gone _insane_?" he demanded. "Biting is very rude!"

"Depends on the company," Sig pointed out. When Dax glanced over, the Wastelander's lips were twitching. "And I think you're getting the silent treatment."

Going by the broad back turned towards him, yeah, he was. "Why?" he demanded, and scrambled to his feet. "I promised, didn't I?"

"You already left once." The Wastelander chuckled, and gestured Dax out of the cage. "Come on, cherry. So. Boss." he nodded to Damas. "I guess there's an alliance?"

Damas looked at Jak, and then back at Sig. "Not yet," he said. "Sig, thank you for taking care of my son."

Sig blanched, turning an unhealthy, pasty color. "Sir, I haven't found any sign of... I've just been..."

Dax saw the exact moment Sig figured it out, and leapt forward to catch him before he fell. Slowly, Sig sat down on the floor, eye bulging and jaw dropped. He looked from Damas to Jak, and back again, several times, before he finally blinked and closed his mouth.

"Now that I think about it, there is some resemblance," he said, rather weakly.

Dax raised his eyebrows, and copied Sig. "Maybe the jaw line," he said.

Damas took a deep breath, and looked Sig in the eye. "I have a great deal to think about, but you have done well."

"Thank you, sir." Sig got back to his feet, and looked over at Jak. "Does he know?"

Dax looked over as well, and sighed. Jak peeked over his shoulder, snorted, and turned away again. "No," he murmured. "And I don't know how he'll take it. Maybe we should talk outside."

"A good idea," Damas agreed. "The two of you know the current palace much better than I. Jak, I will see you again, for a proper introduction." He smiled, and left.

Sig grinned impartially at the entire room. "Later, chili pepper. We've just got back-story to sort out. A lot of back-story."

Dax hesitated, staring at Jak. What could he say? He hadn't wanted to leave, and he had come back. Maybe Jak would come around later. Right now, Dax had a lot of explaining to do, and then Damas was going to want to talk to Haven's council.

He sighed, and closed the door behind him. He'd only just caught up with the two Wastelanders when he realized that the cage door hadn't been closed.

Not that it mattered. It wasn't like Jak was dangerous or anything, and if he felt like he needed it, he could close the door himself.

* * *

Dax closed the door behind them, and considered the room next to Jak's. Like Jak's room, it was large, with pale colored stone for the walls and floor, and had big windows at the back letting in a lot of light. Unlike Jak's room, it didn't have any bars, and it did have furniture, apparently serving duty as a never used sitting room.

"Good enough," he decided, and glanced at the wall shared with Jak's room. Sure, Damas agreed it was best that Jak wasn't told right away; finding out you had a dad when you thought you were an orphan was enough to throw anyone for a loop. Still, he didn't have to feel completely comfortable with keeping it as a secret, did he?

"Alright," Sig said, and sat down on a spindly chair that shouldn't have been able to take his weight. "Would someone mind explaining? Because- the kid's supposed to be _six_. Not sixteen!"

"Seventeen," Dax corrected absently. "And- Damas?"

"Go ahead," Spargus' king said. He moved over to the windows, and stared out of one.

"Okay then." All up to Dax, then. Joy. "Sig, you know Precursor technology's weird, right?"

"Anything you preface with those words is going to break my brain, isn't it?"

"Hopefully not. But, uh, if we're getting to that point, let me know."

Sig clenched his eye closed, and nodded slowly. "Alright, hit me."

"Okay then." Dax took a deep breath, and let it out. "Okay. So, weird Precursor technology. Ah, I guess this planet has a few lost pieces of, you know, science. Stuff that we haven't been able to make since the war with the Dark Makers began. The Precursor temple out in the Wasteland certainly... I mean, I haven't even _seen_ some of those passages, and they're right there with moss growing over them, not that Seem was happy about finding the moss, but... Anyways."

"This is weird for you, too, cherry?" Sig asked, his expression sympathetic.

"Oh boy, is it," Dax muttered. "It's just, time travel, it's one of those things that... is kind of advised against. Unless one of the Elders has a vision, and after a Dark Maker managed to destroy a- a gate, with people inside it, and... It was a really big explosion."

He hadn't been anywhere near the complex when it'd gone, but he'd still felt it. A large amount of life- well, out in the depths of space, on an oversized moon, even a few Precursors was a large amount of life- just- wiped out. Gone.

He had a feeling he'd still be having nightmares, except that there was too much to worry about. Which didn't make any sense, even to him, but he wasn't waking up screaming. He'd take what he could get.

"Time travel," Sig repeated.

"Yeah. You can mess things up but good if you're not careful, and I guess... they were careful." Or not, but what was done was done, and so long as the big things stayed the same, the little things could change. Or not. That sort of thinking hurt his brain, and would have made a philosopher hysterical with glee.

"Anyways. So, what happened is this. Praxis took over, Damas got tossed out, and the kid was taken to the slums and left there as an orphan." Which... didn't sound all that right, honestly, so there were probably a lot of details missing. At least the important bits had been sorted out. "The Haven Underground rescued the kid and put him in the care of this green sage, named Samos, before he got all wrinkly and old."

Sig nodded slowly, one hand coming up to rub at his forehead. "With you so far, cherry."

Dax glanced over at Damas, who might as well have been a statue for all he moved. "Well, you... kind of know what happened, right? With Praxis being beaten and Kor and... everything?" Metal-heads invading the city, the KG being taken over by Torn, Erol dying quite stupidly and messily... It had apparently been chaos.

"Kor was defeated by _Jak_," Sig pointed out.

"Time travel," Dax repeated. "Just wait, it gets weirder."

"You can heal headaches, right?"

"Only if they're from concussions. So, Kor dead, Praxis gone- the Underground had this kid, and they knew he was in danger as long as he stayed in Haven." And had a claim to the throne, if any of the nobility knew just who the kid was, but that was cynical. Maybe Torn and Ashelin had really had Jak's best interests at heart.

Mm, nah.

"And then the green sage, Samos, finds this Oracle, which directs him to this bit of Precursor technology. Took a few weeks, but they managed to find the time map, the- well, call it a rift rider, just because it sounds cool- and all the other bits and pieces needed to make it work. Oh, by the way, can we smash a Precursor Oracle later? I promise its okay with the Precursors in the area."

Sig chuckled, and even Damas reacted, half turning from the window to eye Dax. "Sounds like a field trip, then," Sig agreed.

"Great. So, moss-for-brains took the kid back about five hundred years, to this little place called Sandover, where he should be safe to grow up, with the plan to return about the same time, only with a grown up kid."

This was where Dax actually felt some sympathy and pity for Haven's leaders. They had planned to change things. They'd screwed up, but they'd _tried_. It wasn't like they'd cold bloodedly plotted out how to come to this result.

Still. They had screwed up. And they hadn't tried to fix their mistakes, either.

"Samos doesn't have a 'com, so I wasn't able to yell at him on the way over and get the story. But my best guess is that when he and Jak were returning, with Keira, something... went wrong. They must have gotten separated. Jak arrived about three years ago, and was captured by Praxis for, well, you know. Samos arrived at about the same time, only off on the mountain and three months late. I don't even know where Keira ended up, but roughly the right time, just..." Dax sighed, and rested his head in his forehead. "I don't know why they didn't try to help Jak when Samos told them... well."

Sig groaned, and tilted his head back. "It's one big mess," he summed up. "So, the kid was taken back into the past, and then back to the right time, only too early. Samos knew, Torn knew, and Ashelin knew. Does Jak know?"

"Which part? Because- I know for a fact he doesn't know that he's Damas' kid, heir to Haven and maybe Spargus, depending on how much people like him. That's mind blowing. It blew my mind."

"Mine too," Sig admitted. "So what now?" He looked over at Damas, who finally turned away from the window.

"You have spent a great deal of time in Haven, Sig," Damas said. "Tell me your thoughts."

"Right now? 'Holy fuck' pretty much covers it," the Wastelander admitted. "Sir, the little people... They don't know. They don't know anything of what's going on. First you were in charge, and then Praxis came in and arrested people left and right and it was safer not to ask questions. Then the shields and the walls fell, and metal-heads were attacking. They were driven out, and Torn and Ashelin were in charge. They're scared, they don't know what to do, and they don't deserve to be punished. If any of them had any guilt in this, they've paid for it."

"And then some," Dax added.

"But," Sig continued, "the leaders? Samos, Ashelin, Torn? Yeah, I want to make them bleed."

"No shooting," Dax said. "There's more than one way to make someone hurt, and shooting's over too quick. I want them to suffer, don't you?"

Sig nodded, and sat back in his chair. "There you go, sir," he said, and spread his hands.

Damas stood behind one of the less comfortable looking chairs, one covered in a layer of dust, and leaned his gun against the back. "They tortured my son," he said, very nearly growling. Dax could see eco rise and shift beneath the king's skin, but wasn't able to tell what kind it was. Not that it really mattered. "But the innocent should not suffer for their crimes."

"So how do we compromise between helping Haven, and making the leaders pay?" Dax asked.

"Spargus wishes this alliance," Damas said softly. "It is the will of the people. So, for the duration of this war, we will help fight, in exchange for weapons, goods, and those family members of the exiles who wish to join us." He closed his eyes. "I have no choice."

Dax clenched his hands. That was it? Those three had done- well, they certainly hadn't tried to help Jak, who they _knew_ was the heir to Haven. Doing nothing was almost as bad as helping with the experiments and torture. There had to be something that would hurt them. Anything!

His ears twitched upwards. "Threaten to take the city back," he said.

"What?"

Great, now he had both Wastelanders looking at him like he had two heads, or had turned his hair purple or something. Dax waved his hands as he explained. "It's a power thing, I think. I mean, at the top, they told themselves there wasn't anything they could do for Jak, he was too far gone. Samos said he tried, but he didn't say how hard he tried, and he's used to having a fair amount of power. Same with Torn and Ashelin. Underneath, I bet they were thinking that if Jak got better, well, he had the right to boss them around, and none of them like being told what to do." Boy, didn't they. "Torn feels guilty about it, since I hardly have to threaten him with anything bad for him to tell me whatever I want, but Ashelin and Samos? You threaten to take back your throne, they won't be happy, and there's nothing they can do about it."

"And if I don't want Haven back?" Damas asked, scowling.

"They don't have to know. And when you talk to Haven, you can get in digs at them no one else would get. _You_ grew up in politics; you know this stuff better than I do."

Damas' scowl eased slightly. "You know quite a bit, for claiming to know little," he murmured.

"Eh, benefits of a long life." Dax waved it off. "And I don't think they'd understand how Spargus works with a full presentation, complete with videos and color slides, so you can tell them whatever you want and they'll believe you."

Slowly, the king began to smile. "Such as, the alliance lasting only so long as I am satisfied with my son's treatment?"

"I think that would get quicker results than my threats and rants," Dax replied.

"I like it," Sig said. "The common people will feel safer, though they'll be alright with Torn and Ashelin staying in command."

"With guidance," Damas mused. "Yes, I like this idea as well."

Well, of course he did, Dax thought. It meant Damas was going to be a king of two cities, no matter what fancy words they dressed it up with.

Torn and Ashelin were going to flip. He couldn't wait.

* * *

Begging hadn't worked. Bribes of food, massages, and all the green eco Jak could stare at hadn't worked. Verbose apologies hadn't worked- although he thought Jak had found them amusing, so he'd actually continued with them until he couldn't stand the sound of his own voice.

Turning ottsel- which actually felt weird, after three straight weeks as an elf- and cuddling up to Jak's side hadn't worked either.

Doing the same as an elf, all the way to clinging to Jak's arm and hanging his full weight off the eco saturate, had gotten him a snort, but that was about it. And that snort could easily have been because Jak had an itchy nose or something.

Nothing was working!

"Jak, c'mon. Please look at me? Just a little? A second, that's all I ask!"

Nothing. Jak kept his attention out the window, except when Dax managed to squirm into the view, at which point Jak turned and stared at the wall. Which was utterly boring.

"Look, I'm sorry I had to go away. It's not like I wanted to. I really wanted to stay here, but I have to say, Spargus? Awesome. You'll like it there. And the head honcho, Damas, has already given the okay to you moving there. Sure, there's some fighting, but not against metal-heads or anything, and you don't... Well, you don't have to do it all at once."

And nothing. What was it going to take, fireworks in the sky writing out how sorry he felt?

Except, he didn't really feel all that sorry. Jak was ignoring him. It should have made him want to curl up in a corner and whimper, or at least fret and pluck at his tail until he had no fur left. Instead, it kind of made him want to smile. Sure, he didn't like being ignored, and having the guy he considered his best friend giving him the silent treatment wasn't fun, but Jak wasn't clinging, and had stopped having hysterics at the sight of gray facial tattoos. He didn't like the tattoos, but he didn't shriek and snarl himself hoarse.

It made his healer half, which saw everyone as a patient needing to be fixed up, mind and body, happy. It made the rest of him- well, the rest of him was just confused. He was supposed to be happy his friend was getting better, right?

Except he couldn't help but think of everyone else he'd known. Not to put too fine a point on it, if he hadn't been a healer, he'd have been shipped off to someplace without much fighting, to learn- whatever it was the people who didn't heal and didn't fight learnt. Before arriving on this little planet, he hadn't known anyone he could turn to when he was in trouble. Now he had Sig, and Damas, and hell, all of Spargus.

And Jak. Only how long was Jak going to care about the clumsy healer who couldn't run because he tripped over his own two feet? Maybe if he spent time as an ottsel, he could spend his time on Jak's shoulder, but who wanted a friend around twenty-four-seven?

Dax chuckled a little, and leaned back against the wall. Yeah, he could see the writing on the walls, and yeah, it hurt, but that was life. Healers invested everything in their patients, but their patients always ended up leaving.

He really should have been used to it by now.

He rubbed his hands over his face, and looked up just in time to see Jak looking away. Well, that was something, at least. Jak still cared, even if he was still ignoring Dax.

"This is punishment, right?" Dax asked. "When will I know that you've forgiven me?"

No answer, of course. Dax shrugged to himself. What had he been expecting? A half-hour long rant? Veger went in for rants, not Jak.

Yeesh, Veger. Dax didn't really want to think about Haven's councilors, but some evils just couldn't be avoided. Damas had met with the council, and the results had been- mixed, to say the least.

Some of the old councilors had been delighted their king had returned. Some- like Veger- had been absolutely horrified and trying to hide it. And then there was Samos, Torn, and Ashelin's reaction to Damas' conditions for the alliance...

Torn was probably the only one of them who was genuinely relieved. Dax had a feeling he'd figured the commander out by now. Torn was willing to accept orders from someone he felt had a right to give them, like Damas. Anyone else, though, and you'd make yourself an enemy. The other two were more complicated.

Ashelin, of course, was her father's daughter. He'd raised her; some of his attitude had rubbed off. She'd fought against the worst of it, but some things were subtle and had stuck.

She had _not_ been happy at the idea of Damas taking back his throne.

For that matter, neither had Samos, and that was a bit harder to figure out. Dax hadn't been able to corner the sage, so there hadn't been any way to ask the complicated questions. He was stuck with guessing at Samos' motivations, and he had a feeling he was a bit wide of the mark with most of his guesses. Still, Samos had been an authority, both in the past as a healer, and in the present as one of the most respected councilors and as a sage.

"Life," Dax told Jak, "is just sometimes way too complicated."

Jak grunted, and turned so his broad back was angled just that much more towards Dax.

"That's not very helpful."

* * *

The sound of guns blasting warred with metal-heads screeching. Jak tore one metal-head's throat out, and kicked another in the side of the head, snapping its neck. Fighting might have been chaotic, but he could be angry and confused without hurting anyone important.

Well, what was he supposed to think? Up until a few weeks ago, he'd done his damnedest not to think at all!

Another metal-head. It jumped for him, mouth open; he jabbed his hand in past the fangs, claws ripping through the back of its throat and into its spine. It twitched as it died, and he flung it away before it dissolved into eco and metal parts.

Damas was his father!

_And he remembered, faintly, distantly, gentle hands and a deep voice, impressions that had faded under everything else until he'd almost forgotten them completely._

Dax had promised to stay- but he'd already left!

Jak snarled, summoning the dark eco scattered across the battlefield. It raced to him and sank through his skin.

Just what was he supposed to do? Sig had suggested ignoring Dax, for leaving, so he was. Damas- Damas was Damas, and almost frightening in a way gray facial tattoos had never been. He didn't _want_ anyone with those tattoos to like him, to respect him. He did want Damas to like and respect him, and it had nothing to do with familial bonds.

He only knew how to fight. At least there was something he _could_ do.

He was far from the lines of KG, armed with guns and determination. There was nothing holding him back. Not even a small, furry weight on his shoulder.

Damn it.

Jak howled, jumped into the air, and came down fist first. Eco crackled out away from him, and wrapped up around the surrounding metal-heads. They convulsed, and died.

Eco snapped and sparked around him with every movement, every gesture. It called more eco to him, even as he used it as soon as he had it. He'd pay for it later, using eco used energy and strength, but right now, nothing could stop him. Not even a Dark Maker.

Just what did they _want_ from him?

He punched through a metal-head's skull, threw another at three more, and then tossed a ball of dark energy in their direction.

He knew what he was, now. He was Jak, the dark eco freak, who'd been tortured by Praxis for two and a half years and completely insane for another six months. He couldn't even remember what he'd been thinking then, which was probably for the best. It hadn't been happy thoughts, anyways.

Claws raked across his thigh, and he tore the metal-head's head off without looking.

He was better now. He knew he was, because he could think, and reason, and knew what it meant that Dax was keeping secrets from him.

Damas was his father. Dax knew. Sig knew. Damas could have ordered Sig not to tell, but only Dax could've ordered Damas not to tell.

Why didn't Dax tell him? Didn't he deserve to know? This was only his father, the man he'd always longed for as a child, because when other children had gone home to their mothers and fathers, he'd had an uncle who was away more often than not. He'd had Samos, who'd been kind in a distant way, the same way he'd been kind to every other child in the village.

Jak snarled, and cleared a small space around him with several lethally effective swipes of his claws. He was angry, and he wasn't sure just who he was angry _at_.

Praxis, maybe. The dead man was an easy target. If Praxis hadn't taken over Haven, then Jak would've grown up with his parents. He never would have been tortured. He wouldn't have been out on the battlefield. He wouldn't have more scars than whole skin.

If not for Praxis, none of this would have happened!

The metal-heads attacked again, and Jak tore them apart. Fighting was simple, at least. Kill, or be killed. It all became muscle memory. The enemy does _this_ and you do _that_ and maybe this time you won't get any more scars.

Someone screamed.

It shouldn't have caught his attention. People were always screaming on a battlefield. The injured, the dying- they screamed because there was nothing else to do.

Jak's head snapped around at the sound, and he found himself staring at the medic's tent.

He could see, faintly, the shadowed haze of dark eco through the tent walls.

The injured were moved there, if they could be reached.

The healers were there, trying to save lives.

_Dax_ was there!

The medic's tent was halfway across the battlefield, with most of the metal-heads and a line of KG between him and his friend.

He had no idea how he'd gotten to the tent so quickly. He really didn't care.

It was a large tent. Jak saw the problem right away.

Dax was at the back of the tent, hands glowing with light eco, standing between three Dark Makers and the line of injured patients. There was a healer, crumpled to one side and bleeding slowly from a cut to the head.

Dax was bleeding, and not slowly, but in great spurts. The Precursor didn't seem to notice.

Jak raised his claws, and roared. The Dark Makers both jerked, like someone had pulled their strings, and looked in his direction.

He normally found it somewhat difficult to fight Dark Makers. They weren't like metal-heads; their armor resisted his claws, they were as strong and as fast as he was, and the dark eco they used hurt like the injections had hurt, and he couldn't use it.

This time, it was very easy.

It was like watching himself fight. He knew he was going to hurt later- those were broken knuckles and that was an arm torn open to the bone- but he couldn't feel anything. His claws scraped along the Dark Maker's faces and chests, breaking, but they stumbled away bleeding so that was _just fine_.

He was yelling something too. He couldn't hear himself, he couldn't hear anything, he could only punch and claw and kick and hit until they stopped moving, stopped threatening, just _stopped_.

And then they did stop.

The still, battered bodies shimmered, before bursting into crystalline dust and dark eco. Jak took a shuddering, painful breath, and held out one hand to the eco. Slowly, it moved to him and sank into his skin.

He couldn't move. He hurt, everywhere, and there was blood dripping into his eyes and off what remained of his claws, and he couldn't find the energy to care.

"H-hey. Hey, buddy. Here. I've got you."

Jak turned his head slowly, and looked at up at Dax. The Precursor looked- hell, he looked worried, upset.

Frightened.

But Dax's hands were steady when he rested them on Jak's bleeding arm, light and green eco burning and mixing to stop the bleeding. Then Jak's forehead, closing the cut. A small cut, apparently, but head wounds always bled a lot.

"S-sorry I can't do more," Dax stammered. "There, there's so many, I-" His voice rose to a squeak, and he bit his lip. His eyes were wide, his pupils mere pinpricks, and he was shaking, so hard. At least Dax's wound had stopped bleeding.

Jak raised his hand, and gently cupped Dax's cheek. "You're... okay?" he asked, feeling the words tear at his throat like each syllable had thousands of tiny knives, all pointing out.

Dax took a shuddering breath, and nodded. "Mireen's dead," he said. "I- I need help." And he looked at Jak, his expression as desperate as anything the eco saturate had ever seen.

Jak nodded, and glanced at the row of wounded. Most of them were unconscious, some of them were apparently drugged.

"Tourniquets. Anywhere there's bleeding, just- bandage it tight. If a limb's missing, tie a tourniquet at the joint." Dax straightened his shoulders, and took a second deep breath. "Go!"

Jak went straight for the nearest pile of bandages.


	6. Landslide

_Warning- unedited and very long. See further notes at the end._

**Landslide**

Dax woke up slowly. It was nice, he mused, to wake up when he was done sleeping, and not because someone was screaming for him to go down and help the healers. Just the thought of how much eco he'd channeled over the past two weeks was enough to make him shudder, and clench one fist in Jak's shirt.

It seemed to be a new habit of Jak's. Since by the end of every day Dax was typically so out of it he'd have bedded down in a metal-head's _occupied_ nest, let alone actually making it to his bed, it seemed Jak had taken matters into his own hands. Dax had woken up that first morning, sprawled over his friend, and freaked out. Not even nicely freaking out, like he had that very first time. No, he'd shrieked like a little girl, jerked backwards so fast he'd actually tumbled out of bed, cracked his head against the floor, and then proceeded to yell at Jak. It was a wonder the guy hadn't gone back to ignoring him.

He'd gotten better at the waking up thing, at least. Which was good, considering he didn't want to hurt Jak's feelings.

Dax yawned, and rubbed his cheek against Jak's chest. Well, he was awake now, and didn't seem ready to go back to sleep any time soon. A pity. It was actually peaceful this morning.

Jak's arms tightened around Dax, and his breathing deepened.

"Morning," Dax mumbled.

Jak grunted in reply.

"You want the bathroom first this morning?"

Jak apparently took a moment to think about it, and then began nudging Dax to the side and off of him. Dax sighed and rolled over, freeing his friend. Jak got up and left a nice, cozy hollow in the blankets, just perfect for a Precursor to curl up in.

He must have dozed off, because it felt like seconds later that Jak was back, carefully getting back into bed. The intent, apparently, was to not squish Dax. That was a good intent. Dax liked that idea. No squish. Squish bad.

He shifted slightly without opening his eyes, and leaned back against Jak. This was nice. Maybe they could spend most of the morning just relaxing. The stars only knew how little rest they'd been able to get recently, after all.

The door opened quietly. Dax's ear twitched, but he kept his eyes closed. Maybe if whoever it was thought they were asleep, they'd go away. If it was an emergency, they wouldn't have been quiet, they'd have flung the door open and started yelling right away.

"Huh." Okay, that was Sig whispering. "See? I told you they were cute."

Wait, what? Dax's eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright. Or, at least, he tried. Jak was using him as a teddy bear, so he only got halfway. Still, he was able to see just what Sig was up to.

Correction, what Sig and Damas were up to, he thought grimly. "Sig?" he said, and glared at the Wastelander. "You're dead. You are so dead you're the walking dead." He struggled against the deadweight of Jak's arm, and snarled.

"But I don't have a camera," Sig pointed out.

"Dead!"

Damas folded his arms. "Don't kill him. The both of you need to wake up. There will be a council meeting, and I have informed Torn and Ashelin that Jak will be attending."

Jak sat up slowly, and scraped some hair out of his eyes with one hand. It flopped right back, and Dax took a second to adjust the hair around Jak's horns so it would stop annoying him.

"Both of us?" Dax yawned, and shook his head. "That's a first. Give me a minute to splash some water on my face."

Damas nodded, and leaned to the side, until his shoulder was braced against the doorframe. Dax got up and left Jak rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake up.

Unfortunately, he couldn't just walk in a straight line to the bathroom anymore. Ashelin had taken Damas' conditions for the alliance badly, at first, but had caved within hours. Now Jak had furniture in his room, from a bed to a small table and some chairs, and several rugs since the stone floor was cold. Dax was relieved. Jak was still thin, though he was finally beginning to bulk up, and not having to sleep on the floor was undoubtedly part of it. Besides, if he'd pushed for furniture, it would have taken months, several screaming arguments, and quite a few rants. This way was faster.

Damas had also managed to get rid of the bars that cut the room in half. It was still off limits to everyone with KG tattoos, but Jak hadn't freaked out at the sight of a KG in weeks. He hadn't ever been happy to see them, but he hadn't been thrown into a panic or attempted to commit homicide either.

Several handfuls of cold water splashed on his face later, Dax felt mostly awake, and ready to deal with argumentative councilors. He'd prefer to go back to sleep, of course, but since that wasn't an option, he'd at least be able to contribute to any arguments that came up.

Steadier on his feet now, he headed back to join the rest of the little group. Together, they walked to the council room, Damas in the lead. It figured, since it was his palace, after all, and he was the king.

Jak yawned, and then looked from Damas, to Dax, and back, frowning.

"Something wrong?" Dax asked.

Jak shook his head, but then hesitated. He looked from Damas to Dax again, and then raised his eyebrows.

"I'm not a mind reader, buddy," the Precursor pointed out. The Elders could read minds, but- yeuch! The thought of going into someone's mind and- Dax's own head was full of chaos, and he figured that everyone else was pretty much the same. Thoughts and feelings, smells and sights and sounds and tastes and everything that made up a sensory experience, all whirling together into one big mess... Well, the Elders could have that power, keep that power, and especially keep it away from Dax.

Still, Jak was acting interestingly. Something about Damas, and Dax knew. The only thing Dax could think of, that he hadn't told Jak about, happened to be the blood relationship between the two.

Dax's ears twitched, and then pressed back against his head. "Uh, Jak?"

Jak hummed in acknowledgement.

"Yeah, ah, how good's your hearing?"

Jak grinned.

"Oh. I see." And they'd talked about the whole thing in the room beside's Jak's, hadn't they? All he would've had to do was lean against the shared wall and listen. Great.

"We'll all talk after the meeting," Dax promised.

Jak nodded, and gave him a stern look. It actually looked a little funny; it was sometimes hard to tell where, exactly, Jak was looking, since his eyes didn't have any discernable pupils, and when he tried to look serious, his nose wrinkled slightly. He looked, generally, like someone who smelt something unusual, and trying to figure out what it was.

Not that Dax would ever tell Jak that.

Damas shoved open the council room door, and the four of them moved to their seats. Somehow, either by design or chance, Jak was next to Dax, with Damas on his other side. Sig, since he was still technically Dax's guard, sat beside Dax.

The rest of the councilors filed in, giving Jak uncertain or fearful looks as they sat down. Jak met each look with an expressionless mask, something he was unfortunately good at. Dax reached over under the table, and patted Jak's knee in reassurance.

Ashelin and Torn entered last, and both of them glanced at Damas instead of Jak. Figured. They were Haven's current leaders, but they had to know that if Damas wanted the city at any time, he'd have it.

Dax grinned at the thought.

Ashelin cleared her throat, and set a handful of papers down on the table. "As I'm sure you've noticed, the metal-heads and Dark Makers have pulled back for the moment."

Dax nodded, though he hadn't _noticed_, as such. There had been fewer injured to see yesterday, and he hadn't been woken up early today. That was about all he'd noticed.

"Thanks to Spargus' efforts, the Dark Army has taken several large hits, and while the metal-heads might keep throwing themselves at us until there are none left, the Dark Makers, unfortunately, are more intelligent."

Torn shifted several papers of his own, and looked slowly up and down the table. "No doubt they're consolidating their forces," he said. "Daxter, you're the Precursor. We have questions."

Oh, great. He nodded, and leaned forward. "Let's hear them." Now it was Jak's turn to rest one hand on his knee, under the table.

"I suppose we'll start with the biggest one, then," Torn said. "Where are these Dark Makers coming from? How many would be on their ship?"

Dax rubbed the side of his head, and hummed thoughtfully. "Depends," he finally said. "There's only the one ship, but it's big enough to play the part of a second sun." He was pretty sure that was irony, the Dark Maker's ship giving off illumination. Eh, it was all reflection anyways. "I'd say it's about medium sized, just at a guess, so anywhere from one to two hundred Makers could be stored there."

"Stored?" Samos asked. He frowned. "What do you mean by stored?"

"Someone who normally fights them would probably have a better clue, but I've heard that there are two classes of Dark Makers. The brainless ones who fight, and the smart ones who fight, but also control their fellows. During a space flight, the brainless ones get, I don't know, put in a closet out of the way somehow. I think it's one smart one for every five stupid ones, but they don't have a lot of range. At least, that's what the Precursor warriors I patched up said."

"So you're not sure," Torn said. "Still. No one has kept an accurate count, but I believe we've faced anywhere from fifty to seventy-five Dark Makers on the field of battle."

Dax raised his eyebrows. That was a pretty impressive amount.

Damas cleared his throat, immediately catching everyone's attention. "We Spargans dealt with a good number of Dark Makers as well. Not as many, I believe. No more than fifty at most. However, some were quite large and attempted to come in from the sea." He smirked. "They were shot down."

"So, roughly one hundred Dark Makers are dead, then."

"Sounds right to me," Dax offered.

Torn nodded, and made a note on one of his papers. "Can we expect them to get reinforcements?"

The Precursor blanched, and swayed in his seat. Jak immediately caught his elbow and helped him stay upright until he'd recovered.

"Torn? Could you, maybe, warn me before you suggest a nightmare scenario, please? I honestly never thought about it, but possibly. Likely. There are a lot of Dark Makers, more then there are Precursors, so... Yeah. It's completely possible. Uh, their equipment sucks though. They can't communicate as effectively as Precursors can, ship to ship. Takes them a while to prepare a message, too, since they're not exactly geared for communication." Dax gestured at his face, and shrugged.

Ashelin rubbed her forehead. "So they could have pulled back to have the time and concentration to prepare and send a message for back up, and then when they've done that, they'll return and go back to killing us."

"Probably," Dax said.

Damas stood up. "We should strike them at their heart," he said.

"Got any ideas how?" Dax asked. "Because let me tell you, every time a Precursor goes to blow up one of their ships, it's always suicide."

"Is that why you never mentioned it?" Veger asked. "So you wouldn't have to go and die, coward?"

Damas, Sig, and Jak all glared at the man. Dax didn't even bother. "I am a healer," he pointed out. "Fighting isn't my strong suit. I can do it, the same way I can paint a picture or play an instrument or sing. Doesn't mean I'm _good_ at it. If I went into a Dark Maker ship, I wouldn't even get five feet. Besides that, you need a portal ring, one that isn't permanently locked on another location."

Ashelin opened her mouth, and then paused, with an interesting expression. "Portal ring?"

Right, Elves, not Precursors. They probably didn't have any. At least, he hadn't seen any portal rings in the time he'd been there. "Yeah, they're rings, about six feet in diameter, made out of Precursor metal. They can be set to take you from one location to another, just by jumping through, in an instant."

"You mean a teleport ring," Torn said. "We have several."

Maybe his reaction was a bit extreme. "_What_?"

Several people winced and covered their ears. Dax cleared his throat, cheeks flushed. Yeah, he hadn't meant to go that high in pitch. "Sorry. Sorry, you have _several_?"

Torn, damn him, looked amused. "Yes, we do. I'm sure we can adjust one to fit. If we have to go with that option." He frowned, and looked up at the ceiling. "Activating a teleport ring and throwing a number of bombs through wouldn't work, would it?"

"Only if you want to annoy them," Dax said.

"Alright. It was an idea, at any rate."

Dax rolled his eyes. "Any other questions?"

"Would any Precursors come to reinforce us?"

* * *

Damas shut the door behind them, even as everyone else chose seats. Dax somehow ended up sharing a couch with Jak, using the eco saturate's shoulder as a headrest. Not that he was complaining about it or anything, it was just- did the guy have to be so bony?

"That could have gone better," Sig said.

"I wasn't going to lie."

Damas shook his head, and took the last chair. "Why won't the Precursors assist us?" he asked. "You did not explain in the council chamber, not even when it might have calmed them down."

"Because it would have only sparked a panic," Dax said, voice flat.

"You're not the only one left, are you?" Sig made as if to stand up.

"Hardly." At least, he hadn't been a year ago. Sure, he couldn't feel his people, what with the Dark Makers in the solar system, but it would take more than a year for the Precursors to be killed off. They'd been fighting this battle for over a millennia, after all. "We're losing. The Precursors, I mean. We're outnumbered, outgunned, out powered. The only reason we haven't completely lost is because our warriors are just this side of insane and our Elders are creative."

"Oh." Sig settled back into his chair. "Right, you mentioned something like that. Why you were here."

"Right. Remember those numbers Torn was mentioning? Between the two cities, you've accounted for around a hundred Dark Makers. Precursors normally manage one a year."

It was insane, Dax thought. Precursors and Dark Makers were even, as far as power and eco went- well, normally, anyways- but the elves, who only occasionally threw an eco channeler, saturate, or sage, were able to take out Dark Makers with comparative ease. Surely it wasn't just that the Makers were underestimating the elves, could it?

"Damn, cherry."

Damas shifted in his chair, and looked at Dax. "Have you _any_ ideas?"

"I don't know." Dax closed his eyes and leaned harder against Jak. "I just don't know. Maybe. It depends on how many artifacts have been scattered around the planet, and what they are. I'll have to look in the archives."

"You might want to talk to Onin, too," Sig suggested. "She's a seer. She might be able to give you a better direction than just 'old artifacts'."

That was an idea. Dax nodded, and opened his eyes. "I know some planets the Precursors used to live on had some stuff we might use," he said slowly.

"It's a direction," Damas said. "Which is better than any of those fools in the council room managed."

"And now that we have a direction," Dax said. "I've got something completely different to talk about."

"Oh?" Damas raised an eyebrow, and Dax could see the resemblance between father and son. Maybe not in the superficial, but that was mostly due to Jak being a dark eco saturate. But the jaw line, the arch of the eyebrows, those were the same.

"Jak's got good hearing," he said casually. "And this room is right next to his."

Damas blinked, and looked at Jak. Jak tilted his head, very slightly, to the side.

"I see," the king finally said. "Well, then. If you know already-"

"Probably not all the details," Dax said, feeling only slightly guilty for interrupting. He turned to Jak, and cleared his throat. "Okay, buddy? I'd like to introduce you to Damas of the house of Mar, King of Spargus, former King of Haven, and your father."

Jak swallowed, and slowly stood up. He didn't move forward, though, leaving the next move up to Damas. Reasonable, Dax supposed. It was one thing to know about his father, and hear Damas quietly approve of him, but it was another to acknowledge that sort of thing out loud.

Damas stood up, and crossed the room with slow, even steps. When he reached Jak, he stopped, and looked down at his son. Then he reached over and rested one hand on Jak's shoulder.

"Son," was all he said, but Dax had to look away and blink, hard. A six year long search had finally come to a close.

"Father," Jak said. Dax had to smile. Maybe more than six years.

* * *

"I never thought of a hood," Dax admitted. Jak tugged on his 'disguise', a heavy sweater with a hood, and grinned.

"You don't think much of clothes," Sig said absently, and turned down another lane. The bazaar wasn't as crowded as Dax's last visit, but there were still a great deal of people and absolutely no directions, anywhere. It was amazing that Sig wasn't lost.

"Well, no. You're right." Why bother with clothes? In his natural form, he had fur. Clothes were something the elves worried about. Still, he supposed they did make a difference. Jak's new outfit, sweater included, made him look very different from when he'd been wearing a prisoner's uniform. It was a good change, and people hardly gave him a second glance with his hair and horns hidden, and his face shadowed.

"Ah, here," Sig said, and turned down a dead end. Unlike every other patch of space in the bazaar, the lane was empty of buyers and sellers. At the very end, there was a ragged tent. Dax frowned, and took a few steps closer.

"This is it?"

"Onin's tent. She's inside." Sig clapped one hand on Jak's shoulder. "Me and the chili pepper will wait out here. She'll know what you need to know."

If that was supposed to be reassuring, it wasn't. Dax didn't have the best track record with seers; they tended to foretell disaster in his future.

He glanced at Jak, and then sighed. "Alright. I'm going in."

"That's the spirit, cherry."

Dax grimaced, and headed for the tent. The entranceway was low, and he ducked to get in.

That was a mistake, he quickly realized.

"Awk! It's you!" Something ottsel sized and flapping lunged for his face. Dax yelped and tried to pull away, only to trip on one of the many cushions scattered about on the floor. "You're late! I told Onin it was pointless to wait, but she did and how rude of you to be late! Our time is precious, you know!"

"I- uh- what?" Dax got up on his knees, and stared up at the top of the tent. A strange, multi-colored feathered _thing_ glared down at him from its perch on the center pole. "What the hell are you?"

"Hey! I am not a what, I am a who!" The thing jumped down from the pole, and started flapping its- wings? Arms? Both, maybe?- and landed, rather gently, in front of Dax. "I am Pecker. Onin's translator. And you're the rude, procrastinating Precursor! Awk!" The thing, Pecker, pointed one finger at Dax's nose.

For a second too long, Dax was distracted, wondering just what a bird was doing with fingers. And what did the bird mean, late? "Now, hold on a second," he started, but the bird was off again.

"No, no, we don't have seconds, you useless furball!" Pecker flapped into the air and over to- it was a person, Dax realized. He'd mistaken her for a statue. She had to have been the oldest living elf he'd ever seen, blind, wrinkled, and contorted into a pose that just screamed joint pain. The woman smiled at him, revealing empty gums, and seemed to chuckle.

"What are you even going on about?" Dax asked, and shifted until he was more comfortable. "Do you even know why I'm here?"

Pecker waved one hand-wing, and snorted. "Of course! You came to ask for advice. Fortunately for you, we have it!" He jumped down off Onin's shoulder, and gestured at the old woman. "Onin saw you coming- but she saw you coming several weeks ago! Where were you?"

Seers. "Spargus," Dax said. "So there are Precursor artifacts here after all."

Pecker muttered something that sounded like 'lazy'. Onin made several gestures in the air, which glowed with light eco. "Of course there are," Pecker said. "But the ones you need- yes, we will tell you that. Awk! So listen close! I'll only say this once."

Dax nodded. "Okay. I'm ready."

"I doubt that, but that's what Mar's Heir is for," Pecker said. "Good boy. About time you found him. Now. There are five artifacts, currently in Spargus. Onin says you should ask the rubber woman for them- awk! There is a Quantum Reflector, a Holo Cube, a Beam Generator, a Prism, and a Time Map in the Temple's storehouse, waiting to be identified and studied."

Dax made mental note of the five artifacts, and then choked. "Do you mean to tell me there's a _planetary defense system_ here?"

"I just finished telling you that, stupid boy!" Pecker shook one fist in Dax's direction, and cleared his throat. "You want to take those five artifacts to the forest. It's been overrun with Dark Makers and their poisoned plants, so you'll need to clear them out before you can raise the device. Oh, and you'll have to summon the pillars, too. The Forest Oracles will help you with that. Do what they tell you to do, and you shouldn't fail _too_ badly."

Strangling the blind woman's translator was probably a bad idea, but it was so tempting. "An Astroviewer," Dax muttered. "This planet has a freaking _Astroviewer_!"

"To activate it, you must go to the center of the Catacombs. Through the Wasteland temple, or through the palace basement. Then a Precursor can activate the defense system." Pecker hesitated, and cleared his throat. "Eh, Precursor?"

"Yes?" Dax asked.

"You're not going to like this. The Dark Makers made an alliance with an elf. A rather nasty elf. If you think they're bad now, you need to kill him before he can be introduced to the rest of the Dark Makers. Elvin creativity and Dark Maker's power. Against your people."

Dax swallowed, and stared at the tent wall. "That is not a happy thought."

"There will be a transport ring. It can take you to the Dark Maker ship. You can set the planetary defenses on a timer. Onin has seen this."

"But it'll be suicide!" Dax grabbed his hair and pulled. The pain cut through any potential panic before it started, and he sighed. "But the Dark Makers will be crippled, and this planet will be safe."

Onin made several hand gestures, and Dax knew, even without knowing what they meant, that he wasn't going to like it.

"Onin has seen this. She says you must take Mar's Heir with you. Then, the paths divide, but you might survive. Maybe. A one in four chance, anyways." Pecker fluffed out his feathers. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get going! You are wasting precious time, Precursor! Hurry up and help save the planet!"

"Right, right- why am I following _your _orders?"

"Get going already!"

Dax grinned and crawled back out the tent, and stood up. Well, at least he knew what they had to do, now. Time to tell everyone else, and then they could get started.

"Well, cherry?" Sig pushed away from the wall he'd been propping up, and raised his eyebrows.

"We're going to have to go to Spargus and pick some things up," Dax said. He grinned at Jak. "Feel up to a field trip?"

Jak grinned, and slung one arm over Dax's shoulder.

"Things are looking up, then," Sig said. "Good! Let's go get this show on the road."

* * *

Wind screamed around the temple, throwing sand and fury against the walls and doors. Dax winced at the sound, and rubbed at the corner of his jaw, just under his ear. Sometimes having sensitive hearing wasn't the best of things.

"You are certain?" Seem asked. "These things will help defeat the Dark Makers?" She frowned, and gestured at them to follow. "I can certainly help you look."

"They're pretty basic parts for a planetary defense system," Dax said. He tugged on Jak's elbow when the guy hesitated, staring at some of the wall art. "We learn the parts when we're in the nursery, in the event that we ever get to play with them." Considering the planetary defense system was perfectly capable of shooting down entire Dark Maker ships, it was considered a good idea to know how to use one. The last thing anyone wanted was for that sort of thing to be used against Precursors, or the planet itself.

"Good thing for us." Seem smiled, and led the way down a flight of stairs. "Otherwise we might have to guess."

Seem finally opened a small door, and gestured them in. "This is where we store all of the artifacts that are found in the course of Spargus' actions."

Dax nodded, and tossed a small ball of light eco towards the ceiling. Artifacts, metal for the most part, glinted in the faint light. Most of them he dismissed at once; they weren't Precursorian, by any stretch of imagination, and had probably come from whatever elfin societies had existed before the sands took over. A good number, however, did have the right look to be Precursor in origin, and there were probably more in the piles that he couldn't see.

"Alright," he said. "I guess we can start by taking anything that's Precursor and moving it to the center of the room."

Seem nodded, and moved to the closest shelves, and began pulling odds and ends off of them. Dax watched her for a moment, and nodded. She knew what she was doing. No doubt she'd had a lot of practice.

It took Jak several minutes to get the hang of it, but then he began to move as confidently as Seem. Dax left him to it, and went to the other end of the room. He was faster, but then he could tell at a glance whether something was Precursor or not. The others- Seem had experience, he supposed, but Jak? Maybe a rudimentary ability to sense eco? Precursor artifacts did have traces of the eco used to create them, while elfin artifacts didn't have any eco at all. That was probably it.

It was impossible to tell what time it was. The light from the eco ball didn't change, and this far down into the temple, not even Dax could hear the storm. If there had been torches, the increasingly burnt amount might tell them how long it had been, but all the torches were out in the hallway. It had probably been at least an hour by the time they finished, maybe longer.

They had a pile of thirty artifacts. Dax went over the room one last time, quickly, and found two more that had been hidden in the odd corner, but was finally satisfied that they had them all.

"Now all we have to do is find the five that Onin mentioned."

Seem nodded. "I fear that I will be of less help, now," she said. "I do not know what any of those artifacts look like."

"You'll know. If you have even a touch of eco in you, they'll activate." Just so long as none of the other artifacts were the explosive kind, they'd be fine. "We might find a few other useful things. Just be careful. There might be a few bombs."

"Bombs," Seem repeated, voice flat.

"Uh, yeah." Dax rubbed the back of his neck. "They'll be in three parts. One head sized, barrel shaped part, with a cap on either end." He didn't see any in the pile, but then again, better safe than sorry. "Nothing else should explode."

Seem took a deep breath, and pressed her hands together. "That is not the most reassuring thing you have said."

"Sorry."

Jak shrugged, and picked up the first artifact. It wasn't any of the required pieces, Dax saw, and it didn't activate. It looked like it had once been part of something bigger, but had gotten broken.

Oh well. They weren't getting anywhere just looking at the pile.

Dax quickly fell into a rhythm. Pick up an artifact, stare at it. If it activated, put it to one side, if it didn't, put it to the other, repeat.

The pile was quickly sorted. More than half of the artifacts hadn't activated, obviously broken. Several looked like they might piece together, and Dax made a mental note to study the remaining artifacts once things had settled down. Of those artifacts that did activate, the five they needed stood out, sparkling and giving off a faint light of their own, obvious in the dim surroundings.

"Alright. Next stop, Haven Forest," Dax said, and scooped the five artifacts into a bag. Seem gave him a disgusted look. "Hey! They're sturdy, they'll survive."

"I'm sure," she said.

* * *

Why did Damas have to go with them? Dax glanced over at the king, again, and bit his lip. It might have been just him, but he was pretty sure you weren't supposed to have your leader out in the thick of the fighting. What if he died?

Sure, Spargus would elect a new leader, but there would be confusion and grief and who knew what else, and they didn't really need that at the moment.

He shook his head, and jumped onto the lift. Odd things. He recognized them, in a way, from the Precursor technology they were obviously based off of. Powered by blue eco, they moved through the air, defying gravity, yet never being out of control. Yet they looked wrong, compared to the sleek shapes he expected from the Precursor ships.

As long as the lift got the job done, Dax wouldn't complain, at least. He hitched a ride with Jak, who went down first to make sure everything was clear. The last thing anyone wanted was for the Dark Makers to shoot them one at a time as they went to the lake. Jak, as one of the strongest fighters, was the best choice for first into the fray.

Dax knew he should have been at the back, both because of his healer status and because he represented the sum of everything the Dark Makers hated, but he couldn't just let his friend go forward alone. Besides, the lift could take two people at a time, and this way they could move faster.

He ignored the little voice in his head that said Sig or Damas could have gone with Jak instead. They were elves. He was a Precursor. He might've been a tempting target for the Dark Makers, but he was also a member of the species that scared them the most.

Jak glanced over at him, and Dax made sure to smile. No need for his friend to know how worried he was. It was all moving too fast, of a sudden. It felt like they'd been feeling their way down a cliff path to a valley sanctuary, and then the path suddenly dropped out from beneath them. If they kept their wits, moved fast enough, and were extremely lucky, it was possible they just might survive it all.

Not the best analogy, maybe, but it worked for Dax. It certainly fit his feelings of losing control over the situation.

He snorted, and ignored Jak's look. As if he'd ever had control over anything.

He took a deep breath, and moved a little closer to Jak. The lift was coming down again, Sig and Damas both balancing easily on the moving platform, guns at the ready.

"Alright," Damas said, once he'd hopped down onto the ground. "Let's move. Jak, take point."

Jak moved forward in an easy crouch, claws at the ready and eco crackling over his fingers. Dax followed right behind, with Damas and Sig to either side. It didn't escape him that he was in the slightly safer middle, but once they started fighting, they wouldn't be able to spare any attention to protecting him. He could put up with it for now.

Up ahead, the area opened up, obviously where the lake prevented any trees growing. Dax took a deep breath, and then touched his friends, one at a time, on the shoulder.

He grinned in answer to their inquiring looks. "If anything weird happens," he whispered, "go with it."

After all, he might not be a Precursor warrior, but he could use some of their tricks. They just wouldn't do much good if the three fighters were affected by them.

Something growled up ahead, and they all tensed.

"Alright, ready," Damas murmured. "Ready... Now!"

Jak led the charge, and something shrieked and died under his claws. Dax didn't get a good look at the thing before it started dissolving, but it didn't look very friendly.

There were large gun turrets mounted on the forest floor, controlled by Dark Makers. The bullets started flying from both sides, occasionally so thick that Dax had trouble seeing through the faint eco trails.

He could see the Dark Maker plants, and gagged. Damn things. "Don't touch the vines!" he shrieked, and threw a ball of light eco at a twist of vine as thick as his calf. The vines stiffened, and the parent plant keened, petals stiff and trembling. Then the vines whipped back until they were hidden under the parent plant's leaves.

"What the hell?" Damas snarled.

"Carnivorous plants! Unless you want to end up a snack, keep your distance!"

"Then how do we kill them?"

Dax paused briefly to consider the question, and ducked another volly of shots from the Dark Maker with the gun. He grinned. "Wasn't it nice of the Dark Makers to give us these handy guns?" he asked Damas.

The king laughed. It was not a happy sound. Not for the Dark Makers, at least.

Jak ended up knocking the Dark Maker out of the gun's seat, and took over the controls. He seemed to have fun, shooting anything that looked even vaguely threatening. Dax sheltered behind the gun, and pointed out the Dark Maker plants.

"There are more," he said, and looked across the lake. Yay, more shooting. At least the grounded turret guns across the lake were too far away to aim properly.

Damas took a deep breath, and shouldered his gun. "Then we had best go deal with them, hadn't we?"

The second turret gun was dealt with much as the first, though there were more of the plants around. Dax dealt with the vines, which kept trying to grab them around their ankles. At one point, a Dark Maker stumbled into a twist of the vines; the vines split and wrapped around the Maker, digging in through its armor. The Maker struggled, briefly, before collapsing. Minutes later, it died, exploding into a cloud of black particles.

The plants didn't discriminate in their food.

Dax glanced, quickly, at the others, and spat a Precursorian curse. They weren't looking too good. They needed an edge, and so did he.

He braced himself, spread his arms at shoulder height, and brought them together.

The eco spread out in brilliant rings, slowing everything down. Dax moved at normal speed, and so, he was pleased to note, did the others. They were surprised, but they didn't let that stop them. They took advantage of the differences in speed and worked to take out as many Dark Makers as they could.

Dax returned his concentration to the vines, but where they had seemed impossibly fast before, whipping around at speeds he could only reach with blue eco, now they seemed ridiculously slow. There were still a lot of them, but he could keep up.

As before, Jak managed to claim the turret, and even when the eco slowed time collapsed and returned to normal, they kept the advantage.

That seemed to be it. Once the turret was turned off, the last plant turned into mulch, the last Dark Maker exploded and gone, the forest was silent and still. Almost too quiet, except for one stupid frog that continued to croak and groan.

Dax crouched down and gasped for breath. He hadn't realized it while the fighting had been going on, but he must have been holding his breath half the time. Proper fighters knew better, of course, but he was hardly a proper fighter.

"Now all we've got to do is find these pillar things, eh?" Sig looked around, and grinned. "Found an oracle, anyways."

"Great," Dax muttered. "Can we smash it?"

"This ain't the same one you hate, cherry." Sig started towards the oracle, a squat little statue that might have reached his waist. "Sometimes they can be helpful."

The Precursor rolled his eyes, but got up to follow the Wastelander.

In the end, they all clustered around the little oracle. Its eyes gleamed with the light eco that powered it, and its voice rumbled deep in its hollow chest. "I have what you seek," it said. "But first, a test."

"_No_," Dax snapped, in Precursorian. "_There's no time. If you can raise the pillar, do so now. I command this!_"

The oracle paused, and Dax could almost hear whatever passed for a brain clicking away in its head. "Very well," it said.

Dax turned to face the lake, and his jaw dropped. A giant pillar made of Precursor metal was rising up out of the water. It stopped maybe fifty feet up, water pouring off the top.

"_Where the hell did that thing come from_?" Dax asked, then realized he was still speaking in Precursorian. He blushed, and repeated his question in elfish.

"Hell if I know," Damas replied. "How many pillars are there?"

"No idea." Dax slumped, and then turned back to the oracle. "I'll ask."

"There are five more pillars to be raised," the oracle said, in answer to Dax's question. "My brothers will aid you." The light in its eyes went out, and when Jak knocked on its head, there was a hollow sound.

"Well, that's that," Dax said. "Let's find the next one."

The oracles had been scattered around the forest basin, often on top of a pile of rocks. They all started off talking about tests, but Dax was able to override them by talking in Precursorian. Shortly, the last of the pillars rose up, barely above the water level.

Dax patted his bag, and glanced at Jak. "I think me and Jak should go up," he said. This Astroviewer had been created to protect the elves' planet. It might require an elf to help set it up. Of course, it might require a Precursor, in which case he had it covered. "Keep an eye out for nasties, for us?" he asked.

Damas nodded, and turned so he had the best view along the lakeshore. Sig took up position looking down the other side of the lake.

Dax grinned, and took a deep breath. Jak started walking.

They had to swim, which just figured. Dax winced at the temperature of the lake; it must have been fed by glacial runoff to get so cold. He wasn't the best swimmer, not having had a lot of practice, so he splashed along behind Jak who swam easily, with even strokes and barely any splashing.

The trip up the pillars was an odd one. They climbed onto the first pillar, the lowest, which shivered and began to rise. Dax gasped and grabbed Jak's arm for balance. The pillar stopped when it was the same level as the next one up. There was a gap of about three feet between the two pillars, easily jumped.

Dax eyed the gap like he'd eye a five hundred foot wide canyon. It was easy to jump, except that he was clumsy and would likely slip and fall off. At this height it wouldn't kill him, but it would be embarrassing.

Jak moved before he could react, and picked him up.

"Wha- hey! Jak, don't, you'll- hey, no jumping and carrying me at the same time!" Dax pounded one fist against Jak's shoulder, and then stopped moving.

Jak hopped across the small gap with ease, and then stood, waiting, while the second pillar rose further into the air.

Dax shivered, and shifted his grip on Jak's shoulder. "Thanks, buddy," he murmured. "Didn't mean to hit you, but... This is embarrassing! I'm a Precursor, I'm supposed to be graceful, and instead you're carrying me to make sure I don't trip and fall."

Jak grinned, and tightened his grip. Well, that was obvious enough. "Yeah, I care about you too, you big lug. A little warning would've been nice, though."

Dax had no idea how Jak did it, but the eco saturate didn't put him down until they'd reached the tallest pillar. Jak's arms must have been getting tired. Dax was skinny, but he knew that didn't make him a lightweight, and even the strongest person would get tired carrying around deadweight. Of course, he could have turned into an ottsel and rode on Jak's shoulder, but he only thought of that after they'd reached the top.

Dax sighed, and started pulling out the Astroviewer pieces.

They didn't react as he'd expected.

The first one he pulled out- the Time Map, he thought- flashed so brightly that he winced, and floated up. It started to spin around the top of the pillar, slowly at first but it was clearly speeding up. And not so clearly, unfolding. Dax stared at the thing. Bits of it were coming apart, and there was more of the Time Map now than when he'd first seen it.

He shook his head and pulled out the next piece. This time he was prepared for the flash, and let it go so it, too, could float up and join the Time Map in spinning around the pillar.

By the time all five parts had been released from the bag, he could see the Astroviewer beginning to take shape. It looked like a giant telescope, with a great number of whirling bits that didn't seem connected to the main body.

Jak made an impressed sound, and gestured at the Astroviewer. "This... will stop... Dark Makers?" he asked. He was starting to sound better, Dax noticed. He still sounded like he'd been punched in the throat several times, but at least it didn't sound like talking was painful anymore.

"Yeah, I suppose. Pecker said we had to activate it from the center of the catacombs." At least he knew where he stood with _those_. The Precursors lived there, when they were planet-side. "We're going to have to move fast. The Dark Makers will figure this thing's up, soon."

Jak nodded, and moved closer to what on a normal telescope would have been an eyepiece. "Can we... see? Through it?"

"You'll just see the ship." Dax shivered. "I'd rather not."

Jak hummed in agreement, and looked into the eyepiece. For a few seconds, everything seemed normal, and then there was a sudden flare of eco that even Dax felt.

The Precursor yelped and fell back to the platform surface. "What was that?" he asked. He scrambled back to his feet and looked at Jak. "Buddy? What- Jak? Jak!"

Jak didn't move. He didn't look right. He'd gone- colorful. His skin was a healthy, peach hue, and his hair had become green at the roots, bleaching out gold. He didn't have any claws, or horns, and the little Dax could see of his eyes showed blue and white, instead of solid black.

Dax shook Jak's shoulder, and then again, harder. Nothing. Jak didn't move, and he seemed to be barely breathing. Dax glanced down at the lakeshore, and then pulled on the light eco in his system.

He ran his hands over Jak's head and shoulders, looking desperately for an injury to heal, but there was nothing. He eased a few bruises, soothed a sore and abused throat, but there wasn't anything else. No injury to the head, no disease- but Jak was stuck, somehow. And Dax couldn't fix it.

He moved over to the platform edge and waved at Damas and Sig. It took a bit, especially since he was barely visible to them, and they were barely visible to him, but they got the message. It would be a better idea if everyone was in the same place, with Jak comatose like he was.

Despite the armor and weaponry, Sig and Damas apparently had no trouble swimming over. Minutes later they were jumping off the last of the pillars.

"What's taking so long?" Damas asked. He shook some water off his gun, but apparently it was waterproof, since he didn't seem worried about it.

Dax gestured in Jak's direction. "I don't know what happened," he said. "He just glanced- and there was an eco surge and now he won't move or react or anything! And he looks like that!"

"Normal," Sig said, his eyebrows lifted to his non-existent hairline. "Huh."

Damas cleared his throat, and looked away. His eyes shimmered suspiciously, and when he talked, it sounded like someone was pressing down on his larynx. "He looks like his mother."

Dax's ears drooped. "Any ideas on how to break him out of this trance?"

Sig shook his head, and clapped one hand on Dax's shoulder. They both turned away from Damas, giving the king a little privacy to collect himself. "I think we just have to wait." He smiled a little. "It's the chili pepper. He'll kick whatever it is and then wonder why we were worried."

Dax nodded, and moved to the center of the platform. If he sat down, and hugged his knees to his chest, he couldn't see the ground fifty feet below him, and he could keep an eye on the horizon for Dark Maker devices.

There wasn't, after all, much else to do.

* * *

He'd fallen into a doze, somehow, and nearly fell off the tall platform when eco surged and twisted around him. Dax scrambled around, and stared at Jak.

Jak, who'd stumbled away from the Astroviewer, who was rubbing his eyes and shaking his head and finally, _finally_ awake.

Dax opened and closed his mouth a few times, before giving speech up as a lost cause. He had to settle for grinning, ears twitching madly as he fought down delighted giggles.

"Wha-?" Jak managed, and stared at his hands. His colored, clawless hands. He stared at his palms, and then flipped his hands over to look at the backs. Then back to his palms. Then he reached up to his face, and felt where the horns normally jutted up out of his hair.

"What?" And one hand moved down to cover his throat. Jak looked up, first at Sig, then at Damas. "What happened?"

Damas cleared his throat, and moved forward to explain. Sig backed up, and knelt down next to Dax.

"He looks good, don't he?" Sig asked.

"Which him? We're all guys here."

"Jak."

Dax shrugged. "He looked fine before," he said. Sure, he looked friendlier now, his face was easier to read, but Jak was Jak. Whatever he looked like.

"Did you do it? Get rid of the dark eco?" Sig nodded in Jak's direction.

"No, he just looked in the Astroviewer- it's gone?"

"I'd think you'd be able to sense it."

Dax shook his head. "No. I'm not- my own eco blinds me. He's normal?"

"Looks that way," Sig said. "C'mon cherry. We should head back to Haven. Where'd Onin say these catacombs were?"

"Uh, under Haven palace or the Spargus temple."

"Haven's closer."

* * *

Jak hung back from the catacomb entrance. He felt odd, off balance. He had fingernails, not claws. He didn't have fangs anymore, or horns. His hair was blond, except where it was green, and his eyes were blue. Keira smiled at him again. People didn't flinch away, or worse, run away screaming.

Dax had stopped smiling.

Jak rubbed his forehead. He'd wanted this. To be normal again. And now the dark eco was gone- drained- he was. It was good, it was, but- Dax seemed to have liked it better when he wasn't normal, when he'd been the dangerous looking eco saturate. He'd grin and wave his arms and wouldn't stop talking, never mind the danger.

It hadn't even been a full day! They'd gotten back to the palace, eaten, slept in guest rooms, and now they were at the catacombs. They were close to beating the Dark Makers. He could feel it, and surely Dax, who had more experience with this sort of thing, could too. This was the easy part. Getting through the catacombs required a Precursor, and they had one. Activating the planetary defense system required a Precursor, and- not to repeat himself- they had one. Then, setting up the warp gate to take them to the Dark Maker ship and setting off the self-destruct sequence or whatever it was called, again needed a Precursor. Maybe Dax was scared about the last bit, but Jak would be there.

Wasn't that enough? Shouldn't Dax have been joking, trying to diffuse any tension, any worry?

Maybe it didn't matter.

Better to focus on the important things. Like stopping the Dark Makers. Once that had happened, everyone could relax. The metal-heads would stop working together without a leader. The KG and Spargus warriors would be able to defeat the metal-heads, there wouldn't be so many injured in the healer's tents, and Dax wouldn't have to spend all his time working. They could move to Spargus, Jak could fight for his citizenship, and they would be happy.

Jak took a deep breath, and edged closer to the catacomb entrance. No one else seemed to care that it was in the palace basement. It wasn't Praxis' excuse of a jail, but the lighting, the scents, were similar. He hadn't liked caves or cellars before getting captured. Now, he was pretty sure he despised them.

"Has anyone been here before?" Dax asked. Jak frowned, and moved closer, a lot faster.

"No, no one," Asheline said. "No one knew what this thing was." She gestured at the Precursor metal doors that had hidden the catacomb entrance. "They just closed the room up and left it."

"It wasn't closed when we came in," Sig said.

"No," she agreed. "It wasn't."

Jak wasn't the only one whose hand went to his gun. He wasn't even the first.

"It's not like you need a lot of eco to open these things," Dax said. He tapped one door, and scowled. "You do need to be able to read the writing, though."

"A monk?" Torn suggested.

Dax shook his head, and started walking. "It doesn't matter. They've already entered, so we might as well follow. Just me and Jak, now," he said, and turned around. "The catacomb transports aren't exactly roomy. B'sides. Don't you guys have a war to run?"

Jak waited out the inevitable goodbyes. They were coming back. They didn't need speeches, they needed to go so they could finish sooner.

Damas hesitated, and clapped one hand on Jak's shoulder, one on Dax's. "Be careful, the both of you," he said.

"Yeah, sure," Dax mumbled, and Jak nodded. With that, the last of their friends, allies, headed out of the room and up towards the surface.

"Okay then," Dax said, and straightened his shoulders. "Give me a minute, I'll have the door open."

Jak reached towards his friend, and then let his hand fall back to his side. Dax was busy. That was it.

Dax traced Precursor sigils over the metal door, and the sigils glowed. Not bright, maybe, but in the gloom of the basement, it was obvious. He muttered, too, the liquid, flowing Precursor language. It was compelling, and Jak found himself with eyes half closed, swaying on his feet while he listened.

Dax stopped talking, and the glowing sigils got brighter, and then died. The door cracked open.

"Well, there we are. Shall we?" Dax asked, turning and giving Jak a false smile.

"Dax?" Jak asked. He reached forward again, and then- heard it, sensed it, whatever- grabbed the Precursor by the arm and _pulled_. Dax squawked and fell forward against Jak's chest, just in time for a bullet to go flying through where his head had been.

"What the _hell_?" Dax flailed his free arm, even as Jak turned and snarled.

"Veger!"

"Vegan?" Dax twisted, and stared at the councilor. "What the hell, you ass? What're you trying to do, kill us?"

Veger smiled, and kept the gun pointed at Dax. Jak growled, and tried to push the red back down. It mostly worked. His peripheral vision was starting to blur and he could see the crimson color creeping forward, stealing bits of what he could see, but he hadn't gone berserk. Yet.

"Why, yes," Veger said. Right, answering Dax's question. "You, the dark eco freak... Things will be so much simpler with you dead."

What? Dax stiffened, and then gave his own, hair-raising snarl. "You're insane," he snapped, and dug his fingers into Jak's bicep. "We're going to activate this planet's defense system, and you think things will be _simpler_ if we're _dead_?"

That was a rather disturbing smile. Jak tightened his grip on Dax, even as more crimson stained and stole what he could see. "Do you really think you can hurt us?" he asked. Yeah, Veger thought he could, that was pretty obvious, but he needed time to _think_, damn it.

He wanted to hurt the man. So much. Veger was petty, and cruel, and had shot at Dax. Enough was fucking enough.

"Oh, of course I do. I hold all the cards, you see." Veger gestured with the gun, and walked forward. "I will be the one to activate the defense system, I will be the one celebrated as a hero. I will bring the light to the entire planet, and wipe out such disgusting creatures as _you_." He swung the gun, until it pointed at Jak's head. The warrior didn't blink.

"You're insane," Dax said wonderingly. "Completely lost your mind."

"You are no Precursor," Veger howled, and pointed the gun at Dax again. Jak saw it happen, but couldn't move fast enough to stop it. Veger's finger tightened on the trigger- and pulled.

Dax snapped his hand up, palm out, and the bullet stopped in mid-air.

"Oh, no?" Dax asked, and flexed his fingers very slightly. The bullet shot back at Veger. It missed- probably on purpose- and shattered brickwork over Veger's head. "Jak, let me go."

Let him go? With Veger holding a gun and looking pissed and furious and just plain dangerous? Jak growled, and tightened his grip.

And suddenly, he was holding onto nothing, and Dax was scrambling out of his clothes. Of course, he shifted to ottsel, and... But that was even worse, damn it, because Veger would shoot him and Jak had to do something, now, before Dax got hurt!

He never had the chance.

Dax shifted back to elfin fast. He was maybe a foot away from Veger, certainly no further away, and was tense and trembling. "Whatever you may think, I am one of the most powerful beings in the universe," he spat. And punched Veger.

Jak stared as Veger blinked, stumbled back a few steps, and then fell over. "Dax?"

"Red eco. Oh, don't look at me like that, I didn't kill him." Dax took a deep breath. "Wanted to, but didn't. We'll deal with him later, we've got more important things to do."

That was true, yeah, but... Jak handed over Dax's pants, and obediently followed after his friend through the door to the catacombs.

Sometimes he forgot Dax could take care of himself. A lot of the time it didn't seem that way, when Dax was stumbling around and kept putting toothpaste on the wrong side of the toothbrush, but he'd been taking care of himself long before he'd met Jak. He didn't _need_ to be protected.

The decent into the catacombs was weird. There were glowing lights set at regular intervals on the walls. They weren't like any bulbs Jak had seen before, and when he glanced at them, Dax just said, "light eco."

Helpful.

The metal was Precursor-artifact orange, and the walls were carved with Precursor writing, and odd artwork. They were moving too fast to look at it closely, but he saw oracle-shaped figures, and what were probably elves, and things like he remembered Gol and Maia having collected in their citadel.

It wasn't a very long walk, as such things went. Probably no more than half an hour, all downhill. He wasn't looking forward to going up the tunnel, but there wouldn't be any rush at that point.

At the bottom, there was a platform with an odd kind of zoomer, just big enough for two people if they didn't mind physical contact. "Dax?"

"I'll drive. No offense to you, but- Precursor reflexes."

"Yeah, no problem. Dax, do you think we can talk while you drive? Or will that bother you?"

Dax didn't even look over. "It'll be fine. There won't be any traps, so we'll just have to worry about the conditions... What do you want to talk about, Jak?"

Good question. Jak got into the odd zoomer, and licked his lips. Dax settled into the driver's seat, and the thing started up, apparently automatically. "Question, first. What traps?"

Dax steered the thing towards another tunnel, this one with an odd sort of floor that would be impossible to walk on. "There won't be any, because I'm here," he said. "If I weren't, there'd be defenses that would try to... stop us."

"Kill us."

"Well. Yeah."

Great. The walls of the tunnel began to blur. There were holes in the wall, and pipes had fallen to block half of the tunnel, but the thing was pretty much perfectly circular, and Dax was apparently fine with driving on the 'ceiling'. They steered around the obstacles with room to spare.

"Okay. Did I, I don't know, do something to upset you recently?" Jak glanced away from the view, and over at Dax.

The Precursor's lips pinched together, though he otherwise didn't react. "I'm not- why would you think that? You haven't done anything."

"You just seem- not nervous. Not like you'd be if it were just a fight."

"This isn't just a fight. We're going to die."

The hell? "No, Dax. We'll be fine, we'll manage. Trust me."

Dax shook his head, but never actually looked away from the tunnel ahead. "No one's survived attacking a Dark Maker ship before, Jak. I'll do my best to make sure you get out, but let's face it. It's pretty bad odds."

"That hasn't stopped me before, and I won't let it stop us. I was supposed to die from the dark eco injections, but I didn't."

"This is different."

Jak took a deep breath, and looked away. Why was Dax being so difficult about this? "Fine, it's different. Just trust me, okay? Please?"

"Of course I trust you."

"Then why have you been avoiding me?" Yeah, that was it. Except when they were in a group, Dax had been- pulling away, was the only way Jak could describe it. Like he didn't want to be around Jak anymore, now that the dark eco was gone and he could talk properly. But that was crazy. This was what Dax had been working towards.

"I haven't been avoiding you."

"Bullshit."

The entire zoomer jerked, fortunately not into any of the debris or holes. "I haven't!"

"Don't lie to me! Please." Jak looked over at Dax again, and swallowed. "What've I done? I- we're friends. You're my best friend."

Now was the time Dax said Jak was his best friend too, and explained, and why did he look so grim?

"You can't be mine."

"What?"

Dax glanced, very briefly, over at Jak. "Think about it. I'm a Precursor."

"So?"

An aggravated sigh. "Think about it, Jak. Do you really think they'll let me stay here? If I don't die, they'll want me back."

They- "The other Precursors?"

"Yeah."

"So tell them... I don't know. Why should you have to go back?"

Dax grunted, and steered around a hole that took up most of the driving surface. "I don't know, because I'm a Precursor? Besides, what makes you think I'll want to stay?"

Jak slumped back against his seat, mouth open and completely unable to speak. They must have come to a mostly clear section of tunnel, because Dax glanced over then, and smiled faintly.

"Think about it," he said, surprisingly gently. "I'm old, older than Haven, older than the place Dead Town used to be. Sandover, wasn't it? And I'm young, for a Precursor. You'll be old, and dead within a century. Sorry if I want to remember you when you're at your best."

This was at his best? Jak closed his mouth, and swallowed. It made a horrible amount of sense, really. He was mortal, and Dax... wasn't.

There really wasn't anything else to say. Jak looked away. It'd be better if he made things easier for Dax, let him pull away, didn't show how much it hurt. Dax would only have a few memories of Jak, when it came right down to it. It was better that they were good ones.

* * *

It was a good thing driving didn't take up much of his attention. That little conversation with Jak... Dax swallowed, again, and sighed when he saw the end of the tunnel coming up. He should've been thinking about the various ways to not die while travelling at terrifying speeds, but really, that was kind of passé and basic by this point.

There hadn't been an easy way to break the facts to Jak. But he'd had to. There weren't many options, now. Either they'd both die, or Dax would die, and it wouldn't matter about their respective life spans. Or they'd live, and Dax would see the last of the Dark Makers on this planet killed off, and get called back so he could help his fellow Precursors.

Or, and really, completely unlikely, he'd survive, and be allowed to stay for the century Jak would survive- at the longest- and he'd watch his friend get older and get married, probably, and have kids, and then get _old_, and Dax... wouldn't. Hell, he'd continue looking like a gangly teenager long after any of Jak's kids stopped, and that... It'd be inevitable, really. Jak would end up hating him; hating him for staying young, for not changing, for being stuck in time... And then Jak would die, and Dax would remember that hate, and for some reason he was hunched over the steering wheel, gasping for breath, feeling like someone had stuck a knife in his chest and was rooting around with the damn thing.

"Dax?"

Right, he had to look like he was okay, like this was just routine. "I'm fine," he said, and looked around. The zoomer had stopped- had he done that automatically? Or was it some sort of failsafe to keep the ting from going off the track and into the wall just ahead? And did it really matter?

Dax got out, and walked beside Jak towards the distant glow of a Precursor control system. He'd probably have to turn ottsel to work the thing; most Precursor systems were meant for someone two feet tall. When you _were_ the most powerful beings in the universe, you could get away with being cute and fluffy. Except, well, they weren't, were they? There were the Dark Makers, and the elves with their creativity, and who knew what else existed in the universe?

"Dax?" Jak rested one hand on his shoulder. "You're... really quiet."

"I'm just, you know, thinking," Dax mumbled. Besides, he wasn't the only quiet one down here, was he?

He might have said something else, maybe, except all of a sudden there was a glowing projection of a vaguely elf shaped _thing._ Dax stared at it, to stunned to listen to whatever the projection was saying, when all of a sudden it started jerking around and he could hear arguing coming from the Precursor control system.

"What the..." The projection vanished. "Did you see that?" he asked Jak.

"Uh-huh. What was it?"

Dax cracked his knuckles. "That's what I'm going to find out, and there damn well better be a good explanation," he said.

"Why?" Jak asked. They rounded the controls, and Dax frowned at the three short, orange Precursors turning to look up at the two elves.

"Because someone's in trouble," Dax said, "And for once it ain't me."

* * *

_And thus we come to the end of the twenty-five page long chapter. Huzzah._

_I want to appologize for how long it's taken for me to post chapter six and seven. I can assure you that chapter eight will be posted on Friday, and hopefully the epilogue on Monday next. Thanks for sticking with me!_


	7. Assault

**Assault**

Dax healed his throat automatically once his voice started getting hoarse. "You," he said, making all three Precursor Elders cringe. "I don't believe you."

Either they were confused by his suddenly quieter voice, or their ears were still ringing, or they were still trying to translate some of Haven's dock-side curses into language they understood, but it took their leader a good three minutes to respond.

"You have no right to take that tone of voice with us," he said, drawing himself up to his full height of two feet and one inch. He waved his staff in Dax's direction. "We are _Precursor Elders_!"

"You've been hiding in the catacombs here for _how_ long, again?" Dax asked, and spread his hands. "I'm sorry, I'm not impressed. What the _hell_?"

Jak shifted, drawing everyone's attention. He eyed Dax, shrugged one shoulder, and looked at the three Precursors. "Can you turn the planet defenses on?"

"Mm?" The leader blinked, and nodded. "Of course we can."

"You might want to do that. The Dark Maker ship is orbiting the planet right now."

Dax folded his arms. "Might not stay that way, now that the astroviewer's up."

"You set up the astroviewer?" The Elders all squinted at Dax, the two scrawny ones muttering to each other about how 'awesome and unexpected' that was.

Dax gritted his teeth, and glanced over at Jak again. The elf, damn him, looked almost amused. "Yeah," he snapped. "We did. Now, here's what's going to happen. You're going to set up the planetary defense to attack in... ten minutes. Jak and I are going up to the Dark Maker ship to... take care of a few things."

Jak raised his eyebrows, but nodded in agreement.

The three Precursors turned and muttered to each other. Dax wondered if they hadn't realized _he_ was a Precursor, and decided that probably, they hadn't. They weren't speaking elfin, after all, but Precursorian.

"The loud dude's pretty crazy, huh?" one Precursor said, sounding more than a little concussed. He swayed back and forth when he talked.

"Mm, yes, but this is a rather large threat, it seems." The leader of the trio tapped a finger against his staff. "Get it started, then!"

"Hey, does this mean we can go home after?" the third Precursor asked. Apparently he was concussed as well, as he spoke slowly, as if testing every word before it left his mouth.

The leader shook his head and sighed, before gesturing towards a teleport gate. "You will have ten minutes," he promised. "We wish you luck."

"Uh huh, I bet," Dax muttered, in Precursorian. He smirked at the three dumbstruck looks pointed up at him, before turning and heading for the gate. "Let's go, Jak, we've got Dark Maker's to kill."

Jak quickly took the lead, not that it mattered. Dax grabbed onto his friend's arm, and shifted to ottsel. At Jak's glance, he flattened his ears. "Hey, it's easier to keep up with you like this," he mumbled, and took his customary place on Jak's shoulder.

The gate brightened, and Dax swallowed.

"Hey." Jak hesitated, right before jumping through. "It'll be okay, Dax."

Nice sentiment. Now if only he could believe it.

* * *

Jak tensed the moment he was in the Dark Maker's ship. He could feel the eco pulsing, in the walls, the floor, in the very air. The hair on the backs of his arms, and the back of his neck, stood on end.

Well. He shouldn't have been surprised. It was inevitable that he'd begin collecting dark eco, again. There were too many metal-heads and Dark Makers and eco vents to avoid it. Hopefully he wouldn't go back to having claws, fangs, and horns, but he supposed he'd be able to tolerate it so long as he didn't go insane again as well.

"You alright?" Dax asked, curling his tail around Jak's neck. It helped, even if it didn't actually do anything.

"Yeah." Jak breathed out, and readied his gun. Nothing had happened yet, but that didn't mean nothing would. "I just- there's a lot of eco in this place, you know?"

"Yeah," Dax murmured. Then the world exploded.

Or at least, that's what Jak thought happened. He fell forward into a roll, and brought his gun up. Yeah, Dark Maker behind him, and he'd never noticed. He shot the thing, but it snapped up a shield. He hadn't known that was possible. The shield shattered, though, when he shot it a few more times. After that, it was only a matter of shooting the Dark Maker in the head, dodging one last eco blast.

The Dark Maker exploded, leaving behind a few globs of semi-gaseous dark eco. The eco trembled, then shot towards Jak, sinking into his leg.

"Right," Jak breathed, and headed towards the door.

He had a few strange, hazy memories, probably from the time he'd spent staring into the astroviewer. He'd thought, imagined, that he'd been in the body of a Dark Maker? Something like that. It didn't make any sense now, but some parts of the Dark Maker ship seemed almost familiar.

The door slid open in a distinctly organic way, completely at odds with how the Dark Makers looked. Dax twitched, and looked around.

Several Dark Makers teleported in, and Jak snarled. The gun didn't do half as much damage as he'd done before, but it was safer than overdosing on eco. It just took _longer_, and they didn't have that much time to spare.

Dax snapped a shield up before one of the Dark Makers could hit Jak in the back, and then exploded the thing. Several of the Dark Makers stumbled back, snarling. One of them was even dripping their excuse for blood, a black, viscous liquid Jak didn't remember seeing all that often before.

Jak finished off one of the Dark Makers, leaving him with two others. The eco sank into him, even as he turned and snarled at the remaining Dark Makers.

They stared at him- at least, he assumed they stared- before teleporting away. Jak blinked, and straightened up from his crouch. What was that about?

"Uh oh," Dax breathed.

"I don't like the sound of that."

Dax shook his head. "They saw... Jak, they saw you absorb that eco. There's... I don't know how they think. I don't. But... maybe they already know about you."

Did they? Jak blinked, and cursed. "So?" he asked.

"So, they'll... If they know about you, they'll want to kill you. And they'll know you can take on, oh, five at once?"

Jak took a deep breath, and adjusted his grip on the gun. "Dax?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you, I don't know, give me dark eco? Enough so that I can... you know."

"Go all tall, dark, and gruesome?" He just knew Dax was questioning _both_ of their sanities. Jak for suggesting it, Dax for considering it. "Why?"

"I need to fight them on their terms. It's faster." How long had they wasted? A minute? Two?

He could just see Dax nod, from the corner of his eye. "Yeah. That... I can. I don't know what'll happen though. Maybe you'll be able to go back to- to normal. Maybe not."

"We don't have much of a choice," Jak murmured. Maybe he wasn't a sage, or a Precursor, maybe he was just an unlucky eco channeler, but he could feel the eco building up in the next room. The Dark Makers, obviously. Didn't take a genius to figure that out. They didn't want to face him one on one, or one on four. Those were fair odds.

They wanted to beat him, and who knew how many he'd be facing? Ten? Twenty?

_More_?

"Okay," Dax breathed, and pressed one hand to Jak's temple. "This is going to feel a bit weird, buddy, but hold on, okay?"

Jak nodded, and then everything _shifted_.

In the tiny, rational corner of his mind, he realized he'd missed it. Lightning, sharp edged and bitter, crackled around his fingers and sank into his muscles, flowed with his blood and flooded his mouth and nose. He felt himself changing, muscles swelling, tendons strengthening. His teeth sharpened, his nails extended into claws, and the bones of his skull shifted as two horns punched up and back.

Oh, yeah. He'd _missed_ this. Jak opened his eyes and grinned, fingers flexing and eco crackling around him with each breath. Being normal was nice. Being able to walk down the street, not having people flinch and run away, was nice.

This? This was strength, this was power, this was everything he needed to protect _his_ family, _his_ friends, _his_ planet. This was _great_.

He turned his head, to reassure Dax that he hadn't gone insane or anything, and blinked.

His friend was trembling, eyes clenched shut, color blossoming and fading up and down his back. One second he was orange, the next he was white with black stripes. Jak thought he could see horns just beginning to poke up through Dax's fur, and the Precursor's formerly tiny claws had extended.

"Huh," Jak said, speaking as much in a growl as in an actual voice. "You okay?"

Dax opened one eye- the sclera had gone black, even if his iris was still blue- and grinned. His coat went back to orange, though somewhat lighter in color than originally, and his eyes and nails went back to normal. The budding horns disappeared. "Yeah. Just... Don't ask me to do that again. Please."

"I won't," Jak promised, and looked at the door to the next room. "Ready?"

Dax shifted on his shoulder, and nodded. "Yeah."

Jak flexed his fingers, and grinned. He ran through the door, skidding to a stop, facing the Dark Makers.

Yeah, there were a lot of them. More than thirty, easy, though he wasn't going to stop and count them all. What was the damn point? They were there, they were the enemy, and he knew exactly how to get rid of them.

Maybe he laughed. Maybe he snarled. Maybe it was a bit of both. He really didn't care. The Dark Makers hadn't made the first move, so he did.

It was easy, manipulating the eco running through his system. In seconds he had a ball of eco floating above his hand, and when he threw it at the Dark Makers, it exploded on contact.

He'd never done that before.

The fight wasn't easy. He hadn't expected it to be. Dax yelled warnings, was always ready to snap up a shield at need, but there was only so much his friend could do. He was a healer, not a fighter, and willing or not, Jak wasn't going to ask him to try.

Jak snarled, kicked, punched, clawed. Whatever Dax had done, it was better. A lot better. When he kicked a Dark Maker, it stumbled back. When he punched one of their shields, it shattered. When he clawed them, they bled.

He remembered the last time he'd fought Dark Makers. There was no comparison.

Still, he was one man, and there were over thirty of them. Sure, he didn't have any problems finding something to hit, but they were able to back off, recover somewhat from whatever injuries he gave them, and their fellows moved forward when they did.

"Hold on," Jak warned Dax, and then jumped.

At the top of his jump, he managed to twist and spin so he came down fist first. Eco crackled out in an expanding ring, tearing at the Dark Makers nearest to him. It was a wider circle than he'd managed previously. Just one more sign that what Dax had done was superior to Praxis' efforts.

The Dark Makers convulsed, and exploded. Jak protected his face, and Dax, with his hands.

The remaining Dark Makers, probably about half of the original forces, seemed to draw back. Jak spread his hands and roared at them. The ground was thick with eco, but that didn't last. He'd just used up a lot of the stuff, and he was absorbing it almost as fast as he channeled it.

No, he was absorbing it _exactly_ as fast as he channeled it.

Jak shook his head, and threw a ball of eco at the largest cluster of Dark Makers. Now wasn't the time to think, it was the time to fight.

The Dark Makers didn't seem to have much of a strategy. Even after seeing what had happened to the rest of them, they lunged forward, crowding in close. Jak did laugh, then, and repeated his earlier jump, slamming his fist into the ground and watching the remaining Dark Makers explode.

Only when they were all dead did he look over at Dax. The Precursor was breathing heavily, fingers digging into Jak's shoulder guard, fur standing on end all along his spine.

"You okay?" Jak asked.

Dax nodded, and opened his eyes. "Seriously, when all this is over, I will never, ever go out on a battle field ever again. Not even for cleanup. Don't know how you aren't having a heart attack right now."

Jak shrugged the shoulder Dax wasn't perched on. "I'm fine. Think there'll be more?"

"Oh, of course."

"They're not very smart, are they?"

"No, they're not."

They went through another door, and down a hallway. There weren't any Dark Makers; probably massing together to attack all at once again. Jak's hazy, not quite memories were leading them in the right direction, anyways. At least, he thought so. Dax hadn't protested, but did Dax even know the layout of a Dark Maker ship?

He'd expected it, but for some reason he was still surprised when the Dark Makers all teleported in at once. It was a small room, and there weren't, actually, very many. Jak snarled and snapped his hands out. Eco followed his movements, jumping from him to the Dark Makers.

Two exploded right off. Several others needed to be hit in the head before they did the same. He threw one into the wall, kicked another in the chest, and tore the head off a third. Eco continued to jump from him to them, and in short order they were all dead.

Dax muttered something in his own language. It sounded admiring.

Jak continued along the route he thought he remembered.

The Dark Makers attacked one last time. Jak didn't even bother stopping to fight. He jumped, and came back down fist first.

Dax cleared his throat. "I think... Damn, Jak, I think that was the last of them."

"What?"

"I think they might all be dead. Except..." Jak shrugged his shoulder when Dax trailed off. "Hey! I'm just thinking what Onin said. There was an elf that joined up with the Makers, and since they're all about as creative as a parsnip..." He raised his eyebrows. "We still have to stop him."

"What elf would join the Dark Makers?" At least they probably wouldn't be delayed by any more fights. Did they have four minutes left, or three?

"A crazy one?" Dax suggested. "Jak? Run."

Right. Running.

The rest of the ship passed by in something of a blur. Thankfully. The entire place seemed to get more organic, the closer they got to what felt like the end. The walls curved, and seemed to throb in time to a slow, erratic pulse. Jak thought he might have seen tentacles sprouting from odd corners, but whatever they were, they retreated into the shadows before he could get a good look.

Dax was tensing up. He could feel it, like the Precursor radiated nerves and- something, some other emotion- like it was body heat. It was making Jak edgy.

Because of that, he didn't run through the last door. He slunk through, crouched over and ready to jump forward, to the side, whatever.

It was a good thing he was.

The door slammed shut behind him, and instead of turning to look, he lunged forwards, turning it into a roll. The floor he'd only just been standing on crumbled. He didn't look down to see where it went.

"Well, well, well. I never expected _you_ to come visit me."

That voice. Jak crouched lower, snarling. "Come out!" he yelled. Come out, and this time Jak would make sure of the asshole's death, up close and personal.

Utterly obliterated, his foot.

"Since you ask so nicely," Erol said, and Jak looked up towards the ceiling. There. Erol. He looked...

Jak shivered, and backed up a step. The heel of his foot came down on nothing, and he looked back. Okay, he didn't have a lot of room, and no support under his back foot, really, but there was no way he was moving closer to Erol. The man didn't look alive, never mind the talking and walking. His body was metal, mostly, and his _face_...

"What did you do to yourself?" Jak asked, before he could stop himself. There wasn't time for a conversation. He had to kill Erol, now, and then he and Dax needed to set up the self destruct, or whatever, in case the Dark Maker ship was in the middle of sending a transmition, and then they had to _escape_.

Talking to a dead man was not on the list.

Erol smiled, though it looked more like a grimace. "Do you like it? I do. It makes it so easy to talk to the pawns down on the planet."

"You're dead!"

Erol studied his- _cannon_- and hummed. "I got better."

Jak twitched. Erol was up on a platform near the roof, and apparently didn't want to come down.

"Jak?" Dax whispered. "Your gun? I'll distract the guy."

Distract? Oh, yeah, because going for an obvious weapon would tip Erol off. And it would be quicker to just shoot him, instead of taunting him down onto a level field of battle. It might take a little time to get a grip on the gun that wouldn't result in clawing his own hands, too.

Dax jumped down off Jak's shoulder, and walked forward. Then he shifted into elf, and stared up at Erol. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he yelled.

Jak pulled out his gun, fumbling a little because of his claws. Dax was being his most distracting; Jak had recently heard some of those curses directed towards three Precursors, but a lot of it was new and pretty biologically impossible. Especially the bit with the fish, banana, and gun ammo.

Erol, strangely, wasn't responding. Jak risked a glance up- and saw the cyborg was just staring. Shouldn't he have done something at this point?

He shouldn't have thought that. He really shouldn't have thought that. The moment he wondered why Erol hadn't responded to Dax's ever more colorful curses, the cyborg screeched- a sound more like what the Dark Makers made, than anything biological- and jumped down off his platform.

He landed with an impact that shook the actual floor. Jak lost his grip on the gun, and it clattered, loudly, in the sudden quiet.

Erol looked down at the gun, then up at Jak, and smiled.

Jak almost took a second step back, which would've been lethal. Very lethal. That smile... No. Oh no.

"A surprise attack, Jak?" Erol asked, and chuckled. "I didn't think you had it in you. Nor did I think any of the Precursors would grow the balls needed to creep out of hiding..." He looked over at Dax. "Still, I think you'll be in the way of this little reunion. Don't you agree, Jak?"

He should move. He could see Erol lifting the cannon that had taken place of his hand, aim, and fire- and he couldn't move.

Dax screamed, and went over the edge of the platform.

"Dax!"

Gone. Erol had shot- and Dax was gone. He should've moved, and he hadn't, and Dax was _gone_.

His fault.

Someone was screaming. He realized, belatedly, that it was him.

Erol cursed, and dodged Jak's claws. Jak twisted, just in time to take a punch to the face.

That hurt. But it was distant, just physical. What did it matter, anyways? _Dax was gone_.

Jak screamed, and rushed Erol. The cyborg jumped over his head, and kicked him in the back. Jak tumbled forward, and turned it into a roll.

Red crept forward and started stealing the edges of his vision. Everything narrowed down to Erol's face, twisted and scarred and perched on a grotesque, metal parody of a body. Erol had killed Jak's friend. Erol had joined up with the Dark Makers.

Erol just wouldn't stay dead!

Time to kill him, then.

Jak threw a ball of eco at the cyborg, and laughed when it hit.

For a second, maybe two, he hesitated. His laugh- he'd sounded insane. Like he used to, when he'd torn into metal-heads and hadn't noticed when they'd torn right back into him.

Then Erol shot at him, and he stopped hesitating.

This time, the cyborg didn't dodge completely. Jak's claws tore into Erol's stomach, ripped out wires. Blood and oil leaked out down Erol's thigh.

"You- no!" Erol backed away, hand raised, cannon pointing at Jak. "Oh, no! You won't beat me! I'm not finished yet!"

If he wasn't finished, why was he running away? Jak bolted after him, but Erol was faster, even damaged.

Erol reached the end of the room, and jumped forward through what Jak realized was really a window, not a wall.

Glass shattered, and Erol dropped out of sight.

Jak snarled, and then yelped. The Dark Maker ship wasn't so high up there wasn't any air, but at its level, there wasn't much of it. All the air inside the ship was sucked out through the window. Jak started to fall forward, and dug his claws into the floor.

Now what?

He barely heard the scream through the rushing wind. He reached out automatically, and caught the ottsel around the waist before he went out the window, same as Erol and- parts of the floor?

"The place is coming apart!" Dax yelled, twisting to get a hold of Jak's sleeve. "We've got to hurry!"

Dax- _Dax_? But Dax had fallen off! He was- he couldn't be here, talking, could he?

"Jak! Get over to the bank of computers there!" Dax pointed over to the side of the room. Jak blinked, and looked over, and hissed.

Yeah, across the room, when the floor was peeling up and the pieces were whipping through the air. Sure. He could do it. It just wouldn't be easy.

He'd worry about how Dax had survived later. It was enough, for now, to know that he had.

Jak shoved Dax down his shirt, and scrambled forward almost on hands and knees. If he hadn't dug his claws in with every step, he would've easily lost purchase on the floor and taken a quick, lethal flying lesson. Smaller chunks from the floor hit him in the shoulders and sides, almost knocking him loose.

It was calmer, relatively, near the computers. Dax climbed out of Jak's shirt, and pointed at a dark ring off to one side. Jak blinked when the ring lit up.

"A teleport gate?" he asked.

"Give me a few seconds!" Dax yelled back. He jumped down onto the computer consol, and started hitting buttons. Apparently the computer wasn't doing what it was supposed to, because he turned to Jak and pointed at the screen. "Smash it, would you?"

Jak immediately put his fist through the computer consol.

Dax blinked, and scrambled back up onto Jak's shoulder. "Great." The computer screen began blinking. "Let's get out of here before it blows up."

And before the planetary defense system got the ship, yeah. Jak bolted for the teleport ring.

* * *

They came out fifteen feet above the sand, just outside Spargus' gates. Jak landed on his feet, felt the shock in his knees and ankles, but he'd jumped from higher and gotten nothing worse than what he had now.

"Erol jumped out the window," he said. "What do you... never mind."

It was hard to miss the explosion, just as it was hard not to see the _thing_ drop down out of the sky. It looked tiny, perspective and distance conspiring to make it look smaller than Dax's thumbnail. The Dark Maker ship had exploded, but Erol had managed to remove something before it went.

Dax took a deep breath. "It landed behind the mountains," he said.

"Yeah, and?"

"Spargus is closer."

That... Yeah, that made sense. "Erol's never been entirely sane."

"And there's probably a few more Dark Makers on planet, too. We need a ride, Jak. How good are you at driving?"

Pretty good, even if he was out of practice. For some reason no one had trusted him with a zoomer recently. Must have thought he'd claw the upholstery.

Maybe Precursors had mind reading abilities. Whatever the reason, Dax glanced at him, and cracked up laughing. "You drive, then. I'll get the ride. Pass me your 'com?"

Jak passed it up without a word. Dax's clothes- and belongings- were somewhere in the depths of the catacombs now. The ottsel fiddled with the device, entering in a 'com frequency. It turned on with a crackle of eco, and Jak craned his neck around so he could peer at the tiny screen.

"Who's this, then? Eh? Rat. What're you doin', callin' me?"

Dax's lip curled. "Kliever, me and Jak are standing outside the gates. Don't ask. We need a ride, before you get one _hell_ of a nasty visitor."

"Yeh? Just what d'you think can beat us up in here?"

"Dark Maker tech. I said don't ask- but trust me, if two stones are left on top of each other when this thing gets done, it'll only be by accident."

There was silence from the other end of the 'com, then. There wasn't any verbal answer, but the gates behind them eased open. Jak had expected them to jerk and stutter, and was surprised when they moved smoothly.

An enormous man walked forward. Fat layered over muscle, but he carried the weight easily. His clothes were stained, his armor rusting and patched in places. He carried a gun longer than he was tall, was partially bald, with the rest of his hair hanging in limp, greasy chunks.

"Who's this, then?" he asked, gesturing at Jak with the gun.

Dax cleared his throat. "This is Jak. Damas' son. You know, I told you? Look, the Dark Makers have dropped one last surprise on us, but we've got a chance to take it out. We just need a vehicle, Kliever. We'll even bring it back in one piece."

Kliever raised his eyebrows, and glanced between Dax and Jak. "Huh," he finally said. "You don't look half like a rat, like this, but alright. You can use the heat seeker."

The- what? Jak frowned, and followed after the other man. The vehicle was odd, to someone used to zoomers. There were wheels- why? He'd have thought that zoomers would be better on sand, but maybe Spargus didn't have access to all the parts needed to create anti-grav engines, or maybe the san messed up a zoomer's innards. He wasn't a mechanic, and honestly, he didn't care much.

"This is the heat seeker," Kliever said, and put one hand down on the top of the vehicle. "Fast, good rate of firing, terrible armor. Don't crash."

"Thanks," Dax muttered, and jumped onto the heat seeker's hood. His orange fur clashed with the hot-pink-nearly-purple paint. "So, how do we make it go?"

Kliever groaned and covered his face with one hand. Jak moved closer, and paid attention when Kliever finally pointed out the controls.

The steering wheel was obvious, the gear stick simple enough. The turbo button, the gun controls, the gas and the brakes. Jak nodded, slid behind the wheel, and started the thing up. The engine turned over, and settled into a low hum.

Dax hopped back up onto Jak's shoulder, and waved one hand at Kliever. "Damas should be in Haven, still- wish us luck!"

"Alright. Good luck." Kliever looked a bit bemused. Jak couldn't bring himself to blame the man. The whole thing _was_ kind of insane.

It took a few minutes to adjust to the vehicle's controls. It was both more, and less, responsive than the prototype zoomer Keira had made, back before they'd arrived in Haven. The wheels had traction, but the sand was _sand_. And between the speed and the sand, he ended up skidding a lot.

That was okay. It meant he didn't have to use the brakes as much.

Dax played navigator. Even though neither of them knew the area, Dax could tell where Erol and the Dark Maker thing was.

The scenery rushed by at high speed. Rocks, cacti, sand- nothing more than multi-colored blurs. Jak didn't let up on the gas much. The thing had fallen a good distance away, maybe even in the ocean. It'd been small, but- perspective.

And then they rounded an outcrop of rock big enough to warrant the title of 'small mountain' and saw it.

Six legs, all longer than Spargus' walls were high. A body, way high up, looking like a bloated cross between machinery and an eco-spider. And a head, waving at the end of a long neck, the most mechanical part of the whole thing.

"Erol's in that thing," Jak said. Yelled, really. The Dark Maker thing- spider was the closest he could think to call it- made a lot of noise. They weren't close enough to shoot it, yet, and he could barely hear his own voice.

"Probably in the head," Dax yelled back, having an easier time of it. He could put his mouth right up next to Jak's ear. "If we take out the legs, we can get at him."

Take out the legs? Yeah, sure. "How?"

"Shoot at the ankles!"

It had ankles?

The spider-thing was walking, and as they got closer, he was able to see what Dax meant. It didn't have ankles, exactly. But it had joints down near the bottom, letting the feet adjust to the dips and rises of the ground.

He should've figured Erol would notice a freaking _pink_ vehicle. Especially one headed towards the spider-thing at high speed.

He swerved around the first bomb more by luck than skill, then the second. He shot the third, and the fourth and fifth. "It can throw bombs?"

"Apparently!"

Jak gritted his teeth, and concentrated on his driving.

He had plenty of bad memories, by this point, but he knew, just knew, that this whole thing would have a special place in his nightmares. It wasn't just the bombs. Or the sight of the spider-thing. Or knowing that Erol was laughing his metallic ass off at them. It wasn't even the part where he had to try to drive around rocks at high speeds, the vehicle skidding out of control in the sand, and aim at what were really tiny little spots on the spider-thing's legs while trying not to let the damn vehicle flip over.

No, it was that, and knowing that if he screwed up, people would die.

He didn't know them. Hell, he'd probably hate most of them. But most of them were probably law abiding, probably hadn't hurt anyone, and sure as hell didn't deserve what Erol would do.

It hadn't been so bad, fighting the metal-heads. Half the time he'd been too crazy to care about anything except tearing things limb from limb. The other half of the time- they were _metal-heads_. The odds had never been so bad he'd actually thought he might lose.

This time, though, he wasn't sure he'd manage to win.

Dax couldn't help. The vehicle wasn't big enough for two people. The controls were all meant for one person, the gun trigger was part of the gear stick. Besides, even the Precursor would have difficulty steering in sand. Fast reflexes were one thing, controlling the terrain another.

Jak hit the turbo, just in time to plow through a Dark Maker that chose _that_ exact moment to teleport into view.

"Really?" Jak muttered, and started firing at one of the spider-thing's legs. "There's still more of them?"

"Probably not a lot," Dax said. And how the hell had he heard Jak? Jak hadn't even managed to hear himself!

The spider-thing started to climb up over the first mountain, when what Jak had started thinking was impossible happened.

One of the legs snapped.

The spider-thing rocked to the side, before the leg was detached from the body somehow. It crashed down, and the spider-thing started to climb again, when a second leg- apparently already terminally weakened- snapped as well.

Those were the only two legs to come off, but they were broken. Maybe the thing would be able to continue on three legs, but sure as hell it wouldn't be able to continue on two.

Maybe he really could do this.

Smiling was a stupid thing to do, out in the Wasteland. Jak nearly gagged on the taste of sand. He spat to the side, and focused on his driving.

They were within sight of Spargus' walls by the time the third leg snapped, and the spider-thing collapsed.

Jak never, ever wanted to drive any of Spargus' excuses for vehicles ever again. The damn thing _had_ rolled on him; they'd hit a large rock, and before he'd known it the world was spinning, then everything went crash when the vehicle landed on its tires, and since he hadn't taken his foot off the gas the entire time, only a last second swerve had kept them from plowing into the near vertical side of the mountain. That had been the _best_ part of the drive.

But now the body of the spider-thing was down, and it couldn't move any further.

Jak slowed the vehicle to a stop, and hopped out. "So now what?" he asked.

Dax leaned forward, and pointed at the side of the spider-thing. "I guess we climb."

Now that the thing had stopped moving, now they were closer, Jak was able to see that there were levels, and the whole thing got narrower the further up it went. There were maybe five terraces along the thing's side, and yeah, he could probably climb it.

Precursors. Or, as Daxter might've said, oh stars.

Jak took a deep breath, and headed towards the body of the spider-thing.

The climb up was hell. Not because he had to fight anything; he'd been expecting a fight, but didn't get one. No, it was hell because of what he was climbing on.

The floor squished, and depressed under his weight, and the whole thing stank. Like rotting bodies that'd been flash-frozen, then left out in the sun to thaw and rot some more. Like stagnant pools of dark eco, and a few unwary creatures that had gotten too close. Sweet and sour and cloying, he felt like the stench had coated his mouth and throat.

Maybe he'd get rid of the smell. If he showered for a month straight.

The one time he tried clawing his way up the side of the thing convinced him not to try it again. The terrace side gave under his claws- and some thick, cloying liquid oozed out of the gashes. The tips of his fingers burnt where his skin had touched the ooze, and when he looked, he saw blisters.

Yeah. Not going there a second time. He'd run, and jump, and struggle his way up to the top the normal way, thanks.

Finally, though, he reached the top. Not that he was given time to catch his breath. Dax yelled, Erol cackled, and he dove out of the way.

Bemused, he stared up at Erol, riding in the spider-thing's excuse for a head, which apparently included a cannon for a nose. Even though the spider-thing's legs were gone, body stuck, the head could apparently move with surprising ease. It weaved and bobbed back and forth, pausing very briefly.

"What the hell?" he said.

"I told you I wasn't done, Jak!"

Yeah, Erol had clearly checked his sanity at the door and run gleefully into crazy town. Jak snarled, and concentrated. His gun had been left in the Dark Maker ship, which was blown to pieces now. Whether Dax had managed to turn the self destruct on or not was immaterial; the planetary defense system had taken care of that little problem.

But he still had his own eco. And he had learnt that new trick.

It was harder now, surprisingly so. He was tired. It'd been a long day. The last thing he wanted was for it to get even longer. But, finally, he had a globe of dark eco in hand. All he needed now was for Erol to _stay still_.

Luck was with him, apparently. A Precursor certainly was. Erol apparently decided that now was the perfect time to rant, and apparently it wasn't dramatic enough to yell at a distance. No, he had to lower the spider-thing's head, so he could yell closer to.

Jak couldn't bring himself to be too upset about that.

"Hey, Erol!" he yelled. Erol stopped mid-word, and stared. "Catch!"

He threw the ball of dark eco. It hit.

The explosion was surprisingly big, and the shockwave strong enough to throw him off the spider-thing entirely.

When the chain reaction started, he didn't even think. He just bolted for the heat seeker, jumped in, and drove as fast as he could.


	8. Conclusion

**Conclusions**

"You know what," Dax mused, "I love pants. I mean, can't say I saw the point of them before, but wow. They're amazing things. And _pockets_. You can keep things in them!"

The pretty, blonde bartender giggled, and filled up his glass. "You're not nearly as drunk as you're acting, snookums," she said, but kept her voice low.

Dax grinned at his temporary new best friend. "What can I say? I've got a high alcohol tolerance." Tess hummed, and nodded in reply. "Besides. I probably won't be drinking anything half as good as this in a few hours. Want to have something good to remember the place by."

"A hangover's good?" she asked, looking cutely perplexed.

Dax laughed, aware, peripherally, of people turning to look at him. Let them. He was talking to a pretty girl, who was smiling and laughing with him, and the only thing he could think of was that he was _leaving_ in a few hours. Leaving the city. Leaving the _planet_. Leaving Jak.

As long as his friends, new and old, thought he was happy, or at least tolerating the situation, they wouldn't feel upset on his behalf. Even though, really, a bar full of Spargus Wastelanders being pissed at the Precursor Elders would make him feel a lot better. Wastelanders could be pretty damn creative with their threats.

Spargus' rules had been relaxed for his going away party. No one needed to fight in the arena, so long as they promised to be gone by tomorrow morning. A few of the Havenites- Tess, the bartender, in particular- had already been giving a move to Spargus some thought. Tess looked like she'd squeal at blood, refuse to pick up a gun in case she broke a nail, and wilt in the heat, but she... really wasn't anything like that. Tough as nails, and she'd already shot five kanga-rats who'd tried to get at the party food.

Jak was on the other side of the room, back to normal looking, nursing a glass of beer along while talking with Sig and Damas. Dax knew exactly where his friend was and what he was doing, without having to look over at all. He'd apologized for what he'd said in the catacombs- even if it was all true- and Jak had forgiven him. They were two different species, with two different life spans, and Jak had admitted that he wouldn't have wanted to die on Dax, of old age or anything else.

It was better this way. They'd had something, something great, something that had bound them closer than mere friendship, and the only way to survive loosing each other would be with a clean break. Otherwise... Dax shook his head, and smiled at Tess.

"So, gorgeous, see any handsome Wastelanders you want to drag home?" he asked.

"Besides you? A couple. Think any of them would be interested in a little thing like me?"

"Besides me?" he asked, not meaning it. Tess knew, though, and giggled and waved it off. "Yeah, they'd have to be crazy not to. Don't worry about it."

"Oh, goodie! I mean, you're absolutely yummy, don't get me wrong, but... uhm."

"Yeah, don't worry about it." Precursors _weren't_ elves, and Tess was one of the few people who'd noticed all the subtle differences. Apparently she'd been studying to be a doctor- a healer without eco- before Praxis had taken over Haven. She'd figured out pretty quickly that he just didn't react the same way an elfin male did.

Well, he did look her in the eyes, and kept looking her in the eyes.

He was a Precursor. Precursors had children rarely, took mates rarely, and while he knew the mechanics of intimacy, he wasn't interested in actually experiencing it just yet. Maybe it was because he was a healer, he didn't know, but for him flirting was just a fun way to pass the time without clinging to Jak.

"Hey, Daxxie?" Tess tapped the bar in front of him. "I know this is kind of silly, but if you could stay, would you?"

He didn't even have to think about his answer. "In a heartbeat, Tess-baby." He swallowed, and looked down at his drink. It was lurid pink, apparently so alcoholic it was flammable, and didn't taste all that bad. Kind of like fruit. "I'm welcome here, I'm a citizen of Spargus. I have friends... And hell, there's a need for me. The Elders are leaving, and someone needs to... I don't know. Keep an eye out for a bunch of Precursor crap they're going to leave lying around. And there's eco that needs nudging back into a proper order, and..."

He blinked hard, and looked up at her. "But I can't stay," he said, smiling faintly. "I've got a duty to my people."

"You're an amazing person, you know that?" She patted his hand, and looked over his shoulder. "But I think you've had enough of my company, huh?"

Dax twitched an ear, and didn't react when Jak rested one hand on his shoulder. "Thanks for the drinks, Tess," he said, and only then did he look over. "What's up?"

"The Precursors want to talk to us."

Great. He'd thought he'd have more time. "Can't keep the Elders waiting," he said, and got down off his bar stool. "Lead on, buddy."

Jak kept his hand on Dax's shoulder, warm and reassuring. He needed that, because otherwise, Elders or not, he'd have turned and run into the Wasteland, hidden away until the Elders had left and he could stay.

Except if he did that... Damn it, the Elders wouldn't let him go. Maybe these three would leave, but they'd send members of the warrior class back. Probably his parents, or his sister, or... He wouldn't do that to this planet. Not even Veger deserved Dax's parents.

The Precursors had taken Dax's ship, which had been moved from a crater in Haven forest, and placed in an open space in Spargus' market area. The thing had been polished up, the dents hammered out. It was small for anyone elf shaped, but more than big enough for four ottsels, so long as no one liked singing folk songs or anything.

The door was open, ramp extended, and the three Precursor Elders arrayed in their... splendor. Dax nodded to them, and glanced over at the small crowd. It figured Samos would be there, somehow, but Torn and Ashelin's presence surprised him, a little. Damas and Sig had wandered over as well, and even Kliever was there, hanging back from the main group.

Great, did he have to leave _now_?

Dax took a deep breath, and stepped away from Jak. "It's time?" he asked.

The lead Elder nodded, and extended one hand. "First, while there is an abundance of eco around us, form your memories into a crystal, so we might all share in them," he said.

That was typical. Dax shrugged, and concentrated. Eco crystals were the Precursor recordings of choice, after all. And it was easier to pass an eco crystal around then have to tell the same story over and over again.

It only took a few minutes, though if he'd more experience creating the crystals, it probably would've taken less. When he was finished, he tossed it over to the Elder, not quite ready to take the last few steps away from _everything_.

The Elder stared into the middle distance while he reviewed the information stored in the crystal, and then, focusing again, nodded and handed the crystal off to one of the others. "Very good. Thank you, Daxter."

Dax swallowed, and nodded. "Yeah, well." He turned to face Jak, and closed his eyes. Time to say goodbye, wasn't it? This was really it.

"Jak, I..."

"I know." Jak smiled, a tiny little twitch at the corner of his lips. "Stay safe, Dax."

"Of course." He turned back, and faced the Elders. This was just great. Really. He'd done what he'd come to do. He knew why the elves had survived against the Dark Makers so long, their planet was now protected by the astroviewer, and with the information stored in the eco crystal, his people would survive. Everything was going just the way it was supposed to.

The Elders were staring at him.

Dax froze in mid-step, aware that he looked like a complete and utter idiot, and not caring. Sane people were careful around Elders. They could do things. Sometimes, it seemed they weren't even manipulating eco fields. Sure, Dax could change one type of clothing to another, but the Elders could create clothing from thin air. And the way they were looking at him, well, hiding under a rock seemed like a good idea.

"Hm," the lead Elder said, tail swaying back and forth. "While we have been out of contact with our fellow Precursors for some time, nearly a millennia... I am given to understand healers are rare?"

Huh? Dax put his foot down, and shook his head. "N-no. I mean, no. Warriors and healers are... And Elders, of course."

"And the artisans?"

"They're..." Dax glanced over at the listening elves, and switched to Precursorian. "They're not being bred anymore. The artisan code's been saved away, but the Elders have chosen to only see warriors, healers, and other Elders born and bred during the war."

The lead Elder nodded, while the other two murmured quietly to each other, ears laid back and fur flattened against their bodies. "I see. But you would be a special healer, I take it?"

"My parents were warriors."

The Elder nodded, as if he understood what that meant. He probably didn't, not really. Supposedly, back before the war, it wouldn't be odd for a healer to be born to artisan parents, or an Elder to be born to healers, or... Well, Dax didn't really know what other castes there had been. These days, though, healers were born to healers, warriors were born to warriors, and the parents of Elders were carefully selected before a new Elder was born.

"Would you say it is uncomfortable, among your family?"

"I haven't seen my family in centuries," Dax replied. Why did it matter? Maybe this Elder was trying to decide, oh, who knew. Whether Dax should be assigned to his group or something. "I've been with the healers."

"And is it uncomfortable with them?"

"Not... really..."

The Elder raised an eyebrow. "I see." He looked around the market. "You enjoyed your time on a planet?"

"Yeah." Of course. Why wouldn't he? This planet, in particular, had to be his favorite, and not because of the scenery.

At least now he knew why the Elder was asking so many questions. He'd been out of the war for a long time, and probably still had his optimism. He probably wanted to search out other planets, drive the Dark Makers off, maybe set up a planetary defense system on each one, if there were any artifacts allowing for that sort of thing. That sort of thing needed a healer who didn't hide from the first signs of fighting, and if Dax had proved anything, it was that he'd inherited _something_ from his parents. Suicidal bravery could occasionally be useful.

"What if you were to be stationed upon one permanently?"

Wait, what? Dax blinked, and then swallowed. "Wh-why would I... I mean, the warriors... They _need_ healers, they..."

"Daxter." The Elder smiled, and then pointed his staff at the healer. "We have what we need. And someone needs to... stay and keep an eye on the astroviewer. It is an old, old thing, after all. It could fall apart at any time."

Hah. Yeah right, it was Precursor technology, back when the stuff had been built to last. "You're suggesting I just, stay here, right? It wouldn't work." He took a shuddering breath, let it out slowly. "I- my friends, they'll get old, and die, and I won't, I _can't_, and it's not like I'll ever be able to forget them."

"Precursors have gone insane, from losing friends of another species," the Elder allowed. He smiled, and- was he glowing? "But you forget, Daxter. Precursors are the most powerful beings in the universe. And we, at least, are not heartless."

Everything was light, and tingly, and it felt like he was channeling every kind of eco in the universe at once. It lasted a few seconds, seconds that stretched on for a Precursor's lifetime, and then faded. Nothing seemed to have changed. Dax checked his hands just to be sure.

"Stay here on this planet, Daxter," the Elder said, speaking elfin. "Keep it safe from any future Dark Makers, and return the eco twisted in this poor land to proper channels." He winked, and added, "And don't worry about outliving your friends..."

Huh? Dax shook his head, but focused on the important part. He was staying. He backed up, and bumped against Jak.

Jak immediately clamped both hands over Dax's shoulders.

"We will depart now," the Elder said, while the other two backed into the ship. "We thank you for all your assistance. May the light always guide your path, and the dark give you sanctuary."

Dax grinned, and waved one hand. "Good riddance, good luck, and good _bye_!"

The Elder laughed, and disappeared into the ship. Dax shielded his eyes when the thing took off- without him. Right. He was staying.

He was _staying_.

Did the world sway beneath his feet, just for a second? "Jak," he whispered. "Jak, I'm staying!"

"I know." Jak shifted his grip, so he was hugging Dax around the shoulders.

Dax couldn't help it. He started laughing, and if not for the fact that he didn't want to pull away from his friend, he would've danced around the market.

He was staying!

_And it's over. Ironically enough, this was supposed to be a __short__ story- one or two chapters, three at the most. 60,445 words and 134 pages later... And before I continue, for those curious, the Elders shortened Dax's lifespan to match Jak's._

_And if you want to see another story, I do have one in the works. The tentive title so far is "Monster", both for the plot- which you'll just have to wait and see- and for its length. Unlike Iron Bars, I predict this one will probably hit thirty-forty chapters- if not more. I'll be pre-writing a lot of the chapters, so that hopefully there won't be a long stretch without posting, but I do intend to get it posted before winter starts._

_Thank you so much, all of you, for reading to the end of this thing, and I hope you enjoyed it._

_Kayasuri-n._


End file.
